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THE  MODERN  STUDENT'S  LIBRARY 


EDITED    BY 

WILL  D.  HOWE 

PBOFE880B   OF   ENGLISH   AT   INDIANA    CNIVEH81TT 


AN  ESSAY  ON  COMEDY 


The    Modern    Student's    Library 

Published   by   CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S    SONS 


THE    ORDEAL    OF    RICHARD   FEVEREL 

By  George   Meredith. 
THE   HISTORY   OF   PENDENNIS. 

By   William  Makepeace   Thackeray. 
THE  RETURN   OF  THE   NATIVE. 

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Each  small  12mo.     75  cents  net. 

Other  volumes  in  preparation. 


THE  MODERN  STUDENT'S  LIBRARY 


AN  ESSAY  ON  COMEDY 

AND  THE  USES  OF  THE  COMIC  SPHIIT 


BY 

GEORGE   MEREDITH 


EDITED,    ■WITH    AN   INTRODUCTION   AND    NOTES 
BY 

LANE  COOPER 

PBOFESSOB   OF  THE   ENGLISH   LANGUAGE    AND   LITEBATUBB 
AT   CORNELL   DNIVEBSITY 


CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S   SONS 

NEW  YORK  CHICAGO  BOSTON 


CoPTHiaHT  1897,  1918,  bt 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


TO 

JOSEPH    QUINCY    ADAMS 

A   LOYAL  FRIEND   AND   FAITHFUL   CRITIC 


K 


PREFACE 

Meredith's  Essay  on  Comedy  is  not  seldom 
employed  as  a  text-book,  or  for  supplemen- 
tary reading,  in  courses  on  the  drama,  on  lit- 
erary types,  and  on  the  theory  of  poetry  in 
general.  Indeed,  it  has  on  occasion  been 
termed  'a  classic'  That  it  may  properly  be 
so  called,  in  every  sense  of  the  word  classic,  I 
am  not  prepared  to  assert.  But  when  Ameri- 
can students  are  expected  to  read  it  in  any 
part  of  the  curriculum,  it  seems  to  deserve  and 
require  a  measure  of  elucidation  and  comment. 
For  certain  teachers  its  principal  value  may 
lie  in  the  stimulus  it  gives  the  student  to  read 
the  great  authors  with  whose  works  Meredith 
is  patently  familiar,  while  the  student  is  not; 
and  the  suggestion  might  be  made  that  here 
is  a  reason  why  the  Essay  should  not  be  sys- 
tematically annotated.  Yet  there  seems  to 
be  no  real  ground  for  the  fear  that  the  presence 
of  notes  would  diminish  the  stimulating  effect 
in  question.  On  the  contrary,  my  experience 
points  to  the  belief  that,  for  want  of  fuller 


viii  PREFACE 

indications  respecting  the  masterpieces  (and 
their  authors)  to  which  Meredith  refers,  many 
of  the  allusions  in  the  Essay  escape  due  atten- 
tion from  the  reader.  Consequently  I  have 
done  my  best  to  satisfy  the  demand  of  my  own 
pupils  that  the  Essay  be  rendered  more  intel- 
ligible to  them  through  the  customary  appa- 
ratus of  an  introduction,  notes,  bibliography, 
and  index.  If  I  have  not  solved  every  diffi- 
culty of  interpretation  or  reference,  I  have  not 
consciously  neglected  any;  and  where  my  ef- 
forts have  not  been  altogether  successful,  the 
Notes  in  each  case,  as  I  hope,  clearly  indicate 
the  deficiency. 

In  reprinting  the  Essay,  I  have  not  regarded 
minor  oversights  of  its  author  as  sacred.  A 
few  misquotations  from  other  authors  have 
been  rectified  in  the  text,  and  the  changes  re- 
corded in  the  Notes.  And  in  the  matter  of 
punctuation  and  the  employment  of  capital 
letters  I  have  normalized  with  a  free  hand  so 
long  as  I  was  sure  of  the  intended  meaning,  ia 
an  effort  to  conform  to  the  best  usage  of  the 
present.  There  can  be  no  adequate  reason 
for  perpetuating  chance  infelicities  that  tend 
only  to  obscure  the  sense  of  Meredith's  words 
or  to  disfigure  the  page;  and  there  is  the  less 
reason  in  view  of  his  complaint  (see  p.  27)  that 


PREFACE  ix 

he  was  not  very  successful  in  revising  his  own 
proof-sheets.  Meanwhile  I  have  spared  no 
pains  to  reproduce  his  actual  words  with  the 
utmost  fidelity. 

Since  the  Essay  may  serve  as  an  introduc- 
tion to  the  study  of  comedy,  I  have  included 
what  purports  to  be  a  select  and  relatively 
brief  Bibliography,  consisting  first,  in  the 
main,  of  standard  or  particularly  accessible 
editions  of  the  chief  comic  writers,  and  sec- 
ondly of  a  few  more  scholarly  or  scientific,  and 
a  few  more  popular,  works  on  comedy,  laugh- 
ter, and  the  like. 

Lane  Cooper 

Cornell  Untvehsity 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

INTRODUCTION 1 

ANALYSIS   OF   THE   £SSA  V 43 

ON    THE    IDEA    OF    COMEDY    AND    OF    THE 

USES   OF   THE   COMIC   SPIRIT      .     .  73 

VARIANT   READINGS 157 

NOTES 169 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 295 

INDEX 309 


INTRODUCTION 


INTRODUCTION 

I.    SKETCH  OF  MEREDITH'S  LIFE 

George  Meredith,  born  February  12,  1828, 
at  Portsmouth,  England,  was  the  only  child 
of  Augustus  Armstrong  Meredith,^  a  naval 
outfitter,  and  his  first  wife,  Jane  Eliza  Mac- 
namara,  the  father  being  of  Welsh,  the  mother 
of  Irish,  extraction.  After  her  death  (when 
the  son  was  five  years  old),  the  father  re- 
married, and  emigrated  to  Capetown,  even- 
tually returning  to  spend  the  last  ten  years 
of  his  life  at  Southsea,  where  he  died  (1876) 
at  the  age  of  seventy-five.  Generally  reti- 
cent concerning  his  early  life,  Meredith 
spoke  seldom,  and  not  without  reluctance, 
of  his  father;  his  paternal  grandfather, 
Melchizedek,  and  grandmother,  Anne,  ap- 
pear as  'the  Great  Mel'  and  his  wife  at  the 
opening  of  Evan  Harrington.  According  to 
the  novelist,  his  mother  was  said  to  have  been 
'handsome,  refined,  and  witty';  and  he  adds: 
'I   think   that  there   must  have  been   some 

'  The  father  was  christened  Gustave  Urmston,  and  the  name 
was  later  changed  to  Augustus  Armstrong. 

3 


4  THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDl 

Saxon  strain  in  the  ancestry  to  account  for  a 
virility  of  temperament  which  corrected  the 
Celtic  in  me,  although  the  feminine  rules  in 
so  far  as  my  portraiture  of  womanhood  is 
faitliful. '  ^  When  his  father  left  Ports- 
mouth, the  boy  remained  at  school  there, 
learning  nothing  of  consequence,  as  he  after- 
ward judged,  except  through  the  reading  of 
the  Arabian  Nights;  these  stimulated  his 
imagination,  and  he  began  to  invent  tales  for 
himself.  At  the  age  of  fourteen  he  was  sent 
to  the  Moravian  school  at  Neuwied,  on  the 
Rhine,  near  Cologne;  here  he  underwent  a 
religious  experience,  which  was  not,  however, 
lasting,  and  here  he  made  acquaintance  with 
Continental  literature.  At  sixteen  he  re- 
turned to  England,  only  to  find  that  the 
modest  property  he  had  inherited  from  his 
mother  had  been  reduced  through  misman- 
agement until  there  was  but  money  enough 
to  let  him  be  articled  to  a  London  solicitor, 
R.  S.  Charnock.  But  for  law  he  had  no 
taste.     Yet  the  connection  was  important. 


'  See  the  article,  George  Meredith:  Some  Recollections,  by 
Edward  Clodd,  in  the  Fortnightly  Review  92.  19-31  (July, 
1909);  hereafter  referred  to  as  'Clodd.'  Lord  Morley  {Recol- 
lections 1.  37)  says  that  Meredith  described  himself  as  a  per- 
son 'of  excellent  temper,  spotless  principles,  no  sex.'  Morley 's 
Recollections  are  hereafter  referred  to  as  'Morley.' 


INTRODUCTION  5 

for  Charnock  was  one  of  a  coterie  of  writers 
which  included  members  of  the  family  of  the 
novelist  Thomas  Love  Peacock.  Meredith 
now  read  widely  in  the  classics,  and  in  Ger- 
man literature;  he  wrote  verse  before  he  was 
nineteen,  and  drifted  into  journalism.  Strait- 
ened in  circumstances  as  he  was,  in  1849  he 
married  Mrs.  Mary  Ellen  Nicolls,  the  wid- 
owed daughter  of  Peacock,  Meredith  being 
twenty-one  years  old,  and  she  nine  years  his 
senior.  From  Peacock,  Lord  Morley  be- 
lieves,^ the  young  man  'acquired  marked 
qualities  of  thought  and  style.'  But  the 
union  was  unhappy,  though  Meredith  does 
not  reveal  enough  concerning  the  facts  to 
warrant  much  discussion.  'No  sun  warmed 
my  roof-tree,'  he  says;  'the  marriage  was  a 
blunder.'  *  They  separated,  without  legal 
action;  when  she  died  in  1861,  the  care  of 
their  only  child,  a  son,  devolved  upon  him. 
This  experience  of  wedded  life  is  reflected  in 
the  series  of  fifty  sonnet-like  (sixteen-line) 
poems  entitled  Modern  Love  (1862).  In  1860 
Meredith  began  work  as  a  critic  of  manu- 
scripts for  the  house  of  Chapman  and  Hall, 
who  had  previously  published  for  him  The 
Shaving  of  Shagpat  and  The  Ordeal  of  Richard 

'  Morley  1.  37.  «  Clodd,  p.  21. 


6  THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

Feverel;  from  then  until  1895  they  piibHshed 
all  his  novels  except  Evan  Harrington  (1861), 
Rhoda  Fleming  (18G5),  The  Adventures  of 
Harry  Richmond  (1871),  and  The  Egoist 
(1879);  moreover,  during  the  temporary  ab- 
sence of  John  Morley,  he  took  charge  of  their 
Fortnightly  Review,  and  he  also  edited  for 
them  a  series  of  Military  Biographies.  His 
official  connection  with  the  firm  did  not  ter- 
minate until  1894.  As  'reader'  for  them  he 
passed  judgment  on  some  of  the  early  work 
of  William  Black,  Edwin  Arnold,  Thomas 
Hardy,  Samuel  Butler  (Erewhon),  Cotter 
Morison,  George  Gissing,  and  Fitzmaurice 
Kelly  {Life  of  Cervantes).  An  arbitrary  ele- 
ment frequently  appeared  in  his  praise  or 
censure,  yet,  in  spite  of  a  costly  mistake  or 
two,  it  must  be  said  that  he  served  the  in- 
terests of  Chapman  and  Hall  long  and  well, 
his  criticism  being  wholly  without  fear  or 
favor.  When  he  rejected  immature  work 
that  showed  promise,  he  warned  the  pub- 
lishers to  watch  the  author  for  future  pro- 
ductions, and  often  aided  him  with  personal 
advice.^     In    1864    he   married   IMiss   Marie 


'  See  B.  W.  Matz,  George  Meredith  as  Publisher's  Reader,  in 
the  Fortnightly  Review  92.  282-298  (July,  1909);  hereafter 
referred  to  as  '  Matz.' 


IXTRODUCTIOX  7 

VulHamy,  with  whom  twenty  years  of  hap- 
piness were  in  store  for  him;  a  son  and  a 
daughter  were  born  to  them.  In  1866  he 
was  sent  to  Italy  by  the  Morning  Post  as 
special  correspondent  during  the  close  of  the 
Austro-Italian  war.  Henceforward,  though 
anything  like  a  general  recognition  of  his 
merits  as  a  novelist  came  late,  his  circum- 
stances, while  never  affluent,  ceased  to  be 
straitened;  yet  so  late  as  1874  he  was  moved 
to  increase  his  income  by  reading  aloud  to  a 
blind  old  lady  in  London.  On  the  death  of 
John  Forster  in  1876,  Meredith  was  regularly 
installed  as  his  successor  with  Chapman  and 
Hall,  becoming  their  official  critic  at  a  fixed, 
though  not  wholly  adequate,  salary.  Subse- 
quently he  received  two  legacies  from  rela- 
tives. On  February  1,  1877,  he  delivered  his 
lecture  at  the  London  Institution  (see  p.  171)/ 
on  The  Idea  of  Comedy  and  the  Uses  of  the\ 
Comic  Spirit.  Here  he  developed  a  fa^ 
conception  which  had  been  prefigured  in  Y^ 
earlier  works  such  as  Sandra  Belloni  (1864) 
and  Vittoria  (1865),  and  to  which  he  after- 
ward returned  in  liis  obscure  Ode  to  the  Comic 
Spirit,  in  The  Two  Masks,  and  in  the  Prelude 
to  The  Egoist  (see  pp.  34-42).  Beyond  this 
point  it  is  unnecessary  for  our  purposes  to 


8  THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

follow  liis  career;  the  details  of  his  subse- 
quent life,  with  ample  references  to  his  own 
works,  and  to  books  and  articles  about  him, 
may  be  found  in  the  excellent  sketch  by 
Thomas  Seccombe  in  the  Dictionary  of  Na- 
tional Biography,  Second  Supplement.^  But 
we  may  note  that  his  life  was  full  of  friend- 
ships. Among  his  earlier  and  later  friends 
were  Cotter  Morison,  author  of  the  Life  of 
St.  Bernard;  John  (latterly  Viscount)  Morley, 
whose  Recollections,  just  published,  give  a 
vivid  picture  of  Meredith;  Admiral  Maxse, 
Swinburne,  Moncure  Conway,  Robert  Louis 
Stevenson,  Lowell,  W.  E.  Henley,  and  Ed- 
ward Clodd.  One  of  his  companions  in 
walking  was  Sir  Frederick  Pollock.  Of  great 
physical  activity  throughout  most  of  his  life, 
Meredith  may  have  injured  himself  by  ex- 
cesses in  exercise.  In  old  age  a  spinal  lesion 
rendered  him  helpless,  so  that  he  was  de- 
prived of  the  stimulus  and  solace  of  walk- 
ing; but  his  mind  continued  active.  He 
died  on  May  19,  1909.  One  of  the  staflf  of 
Chapman  and  Hall  thus  describes  Meredith 
in  his  maturity:^  'His  figure  was  familiar  to 

'  See  also  W.  T.  Young  on  Meredith  in  The  Cambridge  Uia- 
tory  of  English  Lilerature,  vol.  13,  chap.  14  (pp.  48&-499),  and 
the  appended  Bibliography  (pp.  622-624). 

«Matz,  p.  282. 


INTRODUCTION  9 

all.  The  striking  head,  with  clearly  chiseled 
features,  the  bright  red  tie  contrasting 
sharply  with  the  iron-gray  hair,  and  the 
general  appearance  of  alertness,  had  some- 
thing of  a  galvanic  effect  upon  those  with 
whom  he  came  into  contact;  and  his  conver- 
sation was  no  less  electrifying.'  To  this  pic- 
ture we  may  add  a  few  touches  from  Lord 
Morley,  depicting  the  novelist  in  his  prime  :^ 
*He  came  to  the  morning  meal  after  a  long 
hour's  stride  in  the  tonic  air  and  fresh  love- 
liness of  cool  woods  and  green  slopes,  with 
the  brightness  of  sunrise  upon  his  brow, 
responsive  penetration  in  his  glance,  the  turn 
of  radiant  irony  in  his  lips  and  peaked  beard, 
his  fine  poetic  head  bright  with  crisp  brown 
hair,  Phoebus  Apollo  descending  upon  us  from 
Olympus.  His  voice  was  strong,  full,  resonant, 
harmonious,  his  laugh  quick  and  loud.  He 
was  born  with  much  power  both  of  muscle 
and  nerve,  but  he  abused  muscle  and  nerve 
alike  by  violent  gymnastic  after  hours  of 
intense  concentration  in  constricted  posture 
over  labors  of  brain  and  pen.' 

>  Morley  1.  37. 


10         THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

n.    MEREDITH'S    BELIEFS    AND 

INTERESTS  AS  RELATED  TO 

THE  ESSAY  ON  COMEDY 

To  his  brief  adherence  to  Christianity  in 
his  youth  Meredith  in  after-Hfe  referred  with 
no  pleasure.  He  openly  avowed  his  disbelief 
in  a  personal  God  and  a  future  existence  of 
the  soul,  and  habitually  alluded  to  the  Chris- 
tian faith  as  'the  Christian  fable.'  ^  His  at- 
titude to  religion  no  doubt  counted  for  some- 
thing in  his  sympathy  with  Lord  Morley,  York 
Powell,  John  Stuart  Mill,  and  Sainte-Beuve, 
and  with  professed  exponents  of  Positivism,  A 
or  the  philosophy  of  Auguste  Comte,  such  as 
Frederic  Harrison.  Thus  it  is  hardly  ac- 
cidental when  he  quotes,  in  the  Essay,  from 
the  writings  of  the  lexicographer  Littre,  the 
recognized  leader  in  France  of  the  Positive 
Philosophy  after  the  death  of  Comte  him- 
self. One  might  therefore  seek  to  establish  a 
relationship  between  Meredith  and  the  Posi- 
tivists  in  regard  to  religion  and  belief.  And 
in  point  of  fact  he  has  a  substitute  for 
traditional  Christianity  resembling  that  of 
Comte;  for  there  is  an  affinity  between  the 
cult  of  'Earth'  in  the  novelist  and  poet,  and 

» Clodd,  p.  26. 


INTRODUCTION  11 

the  'Grand  Fetiche'  (that  is,  the  Earth)  in 
the  French  pliilosopher — something  short  of 
the  'Grand  Eire,'  or  universal  object  of  wor- 
ship (that  is.  Humanity).  Furthermore,  the"^ 
'Comic  Spirit'  of  Meredith's  Essay  is  an 
efflux  or  emanation  of  human  society,  and  is  ^ 
regarded  as  the  presiding  or  tutelary  genius  ; 
of  human  civilization.  But  the  spirit  of  the-' 
Earth  in  Meredith  is  allied  also  to  the  Erd- 
gcist  which,  with  Goethe's  own  'daemon,'  fre- 
quently occupies  the  attention  of  the  Ger- 
man writer — the  writer  whom  our  novelist 
considers  the  greatest  of  men,  and  the  most 
potent  and  enduring  influence  he  has  met 
with  in  life.  Now  the  belief  which  Goethe 
accepts  in  rejecting  Christianity  is  an  easily 
identified,  if  not  very  exalted,  form  of  Neo 
platonism.  Accordingly,  in  his  belief,  if  we 
are  not  to  describe  it  negatively,  Meredith 
is  Neoplatonic,  and  represents  a  trend  of 
thought  characteristic  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury, midway  between  complete  agnosticism 
and  orthodoxy,  and  possibly  best  defined  by 
the  term  Neopaganism — since  Neoplatonism 
was  historically  the  last  phase  of  paganism, 
the  phase  in  which  primitive  Christianity  met 
its  most  respectable  and  insidious  foe,  and  the 
phase  which  from  time  to  time  was  to  reap- 


12         THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

pear  in  close  touch  with  the  later  develop- 
ment of  Christianity,  not  seldom  as  an  en- 
emy within  the  walls.  One  may  venture  to 
think,  however,  that  Meredith  did  not  pre- 
cisely derive  his  behef  from  France  or  Ger- 
many; rather  it  was  this  belief  that  rendered 
him  sympathetic  with  various  French  and 
German  writers  of  a  hke  tendency.  It  would 
seem  more  probable  that  his  notions  of  the 
oneness  of  all  Ufe  and  being,  of  'the  soul  that 
breathes  through  the  universe'  (to  use  his 
own  words ^),  echo  the  thought  of  certain 
English  poets  of  the  age  preceding  his;  for 
his  expressions  frequently  remind  us  of 
Wordsworth  and  the  doctrine  of  the  divine 
immanence  found  in  Wordsworth's  earlier 
poetry;^  and  his  freely-devised  mythology, 
his  invention  of  spirits  (as  'the  Comic  Spirit') 
and  essences  of  one  sort  and  another,  and  of 
the  imps  in  The  Egoist,^  has  a  parallel  in  the 
demonology,  clearly  of  Neoplatonic  origin, 
which  Coleridge  employs  and  half-believes, 
and  in  the  spirits,  splendors,  and  other  fic- 
titious personages  which  Shelley  produces,  in 
his  profuse,  tenuous,  and  haphazard  mytho- 
logical macliinery. 

>  Clodd,  p.  23. 

»  Compare  Wordsworth,  Tinlern  Abbey  93-102. 

'  See  below,  pp.  40-42. 


INTRODUCTION  13 

In  the  Essay  on  Comedy,  however,  we  have 
less  to  do  with  Meredith's  cult  of  Earth  and 
worship  of  'Nature,'  than  with  the  half -pagan 
conception  of  the  Comic  Spirit ;  now  a  wise,N 
alert,  ironical  demon  of  the  upper  air;  again  a  / 
more  hazy  'emanation'  of  humanity;  and  yet   )* 
again  a  mere  verbal  abstraction,  not  always  t 
dignified  with  the  capitals  C  and  S;    never-   | 
theless  on  the  whole  an  approach  to  a  per-   \ 
sonality  in  whose  existence  the  author  would    i 
have  us  believe.     In  similar  fashion  he  per-    ; 
sonifies  Comedy  itself,  and  Dulness,  Moral-y 
ity,  Folly,  Laughter,  and  Farce. 

A  writer  who  commonly  employed  an  ex- 
pression like  '  the  Christian  fable '  must  neces- 
sarily be  cut  off  from  the  full  appreciation  and 
enjoyment  of  a  large  part  of  the  world's  best 
literature.  Meredith  might  be  on  friendly 
terms  with  a  writer  on  St.  Bernard  like 
Cotter  Morison,  but  could  not  very  well 
maintain  a  loving  famiharity  with  the  best 
of  Christian  writers,  or,  in  particular,  with 
Mediaeval  literature  as  a  whole.  Accordingly, 
when  we  refer,  as  we  may,  to  the  wide-rang- 
ing interest  shown  by  the  author  of  the  Essay 
on  Comedy  in  the  literature  of  nearly  every 
age  and  nation,  we  must  make  an  important 
reservation   In  respect  to  what  the  Middle 


14         THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

Ages  offer  in  the  way  of  comedy.     True,  he 

(has  an  eye  for  Boccaccio  and  Chaucer;  but  he 

\  does  not  mention  Dante,  nor  is  there  any 

^evidence  that  he  is  aware  of  the  great  body 

/of  Mediaeval  comic  poetry  and  prose.     He 

/  does  not  touch  upon  the  comic  element  in  the 

I  Bible.     We  may  take  it  for  granted  that  his 

I   interests  lie  in  classical  antiquity  on  the  one 

\  hand,  and  on  the  other,  and  more  especially, 

\in   the  literature  of  the   Renaissance,  down 

to  his  own  time.    He  possessed  a  knowledge 

of  modern  French  and   German  writers  not 

easily  matched  in  the  circle  of  mid- Victorian 

poets  and  novelists.^     But  on  the  subject  of 

his  own  reading  we  may  let  Meredith  speak 

for  himself.     On  April  5,  1906,  he  wrote  to 

Dr.  H.  R.  D.  Anders: 2 

'I  remember  reading  in  my  youth  Otto 
Jahn's  memoir  of  the  great  philologer  Her- 
mann and  his  indefatigable  devotion  to  work, 
with  a  sigh  of  regret  that  he,  who  had  his 
rivals  at  home,  had  so  few,  if  any,  among  us. 
As  for  me,  you  ask  of  my  readings  of  the  for- 
mative kind.     They  were,  first,  the  Arabian 

'  Compare  John  Lees,  George  Meredith's  Literary  Relations 
with  Germany,  in  The  Modern  Language  Review  12.  428-437 
(October.  1917). 

'  The  Letters  of  George  Meredith,  edited  by  his  son  (W.  M. 
Meredith),  two  volumes.  New  York,  1912,  2.  578;  this  work 
is  hereafter  cited  as  'Letters.' 


INTRODUCTION  15 

Nights;  then  Gibbon,  Niebuhr,  Walter  Scott; 
then  Moliere;  then  the  noble  Goethe,  the 
most  enduring.  All  the  poets,  English,  Wei- 
mar and  Suabia  and  Austrian.' 

Previously,  in  1899,  he  had  written  to  a 
correspondent :  ^ 

'In  reply  to  your  request  that  I  should 
name  the  French  writers  now  dead,  who  are, 
in  my  opinion,  most  characteristic  of  the 
genius  of  France,  they  are:  For  human  phi- 
losophy, Montaigne;  for  the  comic  apprecia- 
tion of  society,  Moliere;  for  the  observation 
of  life  and  condensed  expression.  La  Bruyere; 
for  a  most  delicate  irony  scarcely  distinguish- 
able from  tenderness,  Renan;  for  high  pitch 
of  impassioned  sentiment,  Racine.  Add  to 
these  your  innumerable  writers  of  Memoires 
and  Pensees,  in  which  France  has  never  had 
a  rival.' 

These  utterances  evince  mental  breadtli 
and  perspective;  and  breadth  and  perspec- 
tive, in  spite  of  limitations,  are  characteristic 
of  the  Essay  on  Comedy.  In  this,  among  the 
ancient  classical  and  modern  Continental 
writers  of  comedy,  none  of  first  importance 
escapes  attention.     Plautus,  indeed,  receives 

'  Letters  9.  501;  the  editor  does  not  give  the  name  of  the 
correspondent. 


16         THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

scant  justice;  and  Scandinavian  comedy — for 
example,  that  of  Holberg— is  not  brought 
under  consideration;  nor  are  Russian  authors 
considered.  It  may  also  be  thought  that, 
notw-ithstanding  the  praise  bestowed  upon 
them,  Aristophanes  and  Shakespeare  are  un- 
duly depressed  in  favor  of  Moliere,  in  that 
Moliere  becomes  the  central  figure  and  point 
of  reference  for  the  entire  discussion.  Even 
so,  the  Essay  on  Comedy  has  the  merit  of  a 
fairly  comprehensive  survey  of  the  comic 
writers  of  all  ages.  From  Greece  are  mar- 
shaled Aristophanes  and  Menander;  from 
Rome,  Plautus  and  Terence;  from  Italy, 
Boccaccio,  Machiavelli,  and  Goldoni;  from 
England,  Chaucer,  Shakespeare,  Ben  Jon- 
son,  Wycherley,  Congreve,  Sheridan,  Gold- 
smith, Fielding,  Smollett,  and  Lamb;  from 
France,  Rabelais,  Moliere,  and  Augier — even 
Erckmann-Chatrian;  from  Germany,  Lessing, 
Goethe,  and  Heine.  There  are  glances  at  the 
comedy  of  Spain  and  the  Orient,  quotations 
from  Swift  and  Voltaire,  an  appraisal  of  the 
humor  of  BjTon  and  Carlyle.  But  we  need 
not  exhaust  the  list  provided  by  the  Index, 
Is  there  another  equally  inclusive  (we  must 
not  say  exhaustive)  treatment  of  the  subject 
in   existence.?     Certainly   there  is   no   other 


INTRODUCTION  17 

from  the  hand  of  an  ^author  who  himself  suc- 
ceeded as  a  creative  artist. 

It  must  be  said  that  Meredith  betrays  no 
distinct  indebtedness  to  theoretical  discus- 
sions of  comedy  and  laughter  by  scholars. 
Perhaps  son.e  one  will  rejoin  that  this  is  just 
as  well — though  we  could  wish  him  more 
familiar,  if  he  is  familiar  at  all,  with  the 
Symposium  of  Plato,  and  the  commentators 
thereon.  On  the  other  hand,  he  has  read  dis- 
cussions by  literary  men,  including  Hazlitt 
and  Leigh  Hunt,  and  Lamb,  on  the  comedy  of 
the  Restoration;  and  he  owes  a  considerable 
debt  to  modem  French  literary  critics,  for 
instance,  Sainte-Beuve,  as  a  source  of  in- 
formation on  special  topics.  He  has  used 
Littre  on  Aristophanes  and  Rabelais  to  ad- 
vantage, and  likewise  Saint-Marc  Girardin, 
and  current  periodicals  like  the  Journal  des 
Debats.  But  his  hterary  judgments  do  not 
depend  upon  the  opinions  of  others;  in  the 
main  they  rest  upon  his  own  individual  ex- 
amination of  masterpieces.  If  he  has  a  bias 
in  favor  of  Moliere,  one  of  the  greatest  of  the 
great,  who  can  complain.'  Such  a  bias  is 
preferable  to  colorless  impartiality,  which 
never  has  been  the  quality  of  a  first-rate 
critic. 


18         THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

But  breadth  of  view  and  independence  of 
judgment  are  not  the  only  merits  of  the  Essay. 
Possibly  its  chief  value  lies  in  the  stimulus 
arising  from  these  and  other  qualities,  such  as 
allusiveness  and  vivacity  of  style,  drawing 
and  urging  the  student  to  fill  up  gaps  in  his 
own  reading.  Again,  by  insisting  upon  the 
need  of  ideal  relations  between  men  and 
women  if  comedy  is  to  prosper,  and  by  in- 
dicating the  social  conditions  in  which  a 
Moliere  may  flourish,  the  Essay  itself  induces 
in  us  a  mood  and  way  of  thinking  that  assist 
the  appreciation  of  comic  writers  when  we 
turn  from  it  to  them.  Finally,  it  renders  an 
undoubted  service  in  laying  stress  upon  the 
emotional  or  mental  effect  of  a  comedy  as 
the  criterion  by  which  the  comedy  is  to  be 
judged. 

This  last  point  is  one  of  the  utmost  im- 
portance.      For     Meredith,     comedy     must 
awaken  'thoughtful  laughter';  its  end  is  'to 
touch  and  kindle  the  mind  through  laughter,' 
,  or  'to  shake  and  elevate  the  feelings.'     For 
i  him,  then,  the  pleasure  afforded  by  the  comic 
!   writer  is  primarily  intellectual,  and  only  sec- 
\^  ondarily  emotional.    Meredith  may  be  wholly 
right  in  this,  or  he  may  be  right  in  a  measure. 
He  has  not  gone  far  toward  analyzing  the 


INTRODUCTION  19 

pleasure  we  obtain  from  Rabelais  or  Aris- 
tophanes. But  for  the  type  of  comedy  that 
interests  him  he  goes  straight  to  the  point 
where  the  investigation  should  begin,  the 
point  where  Aristotle  begins  in  his  discussion 
of  tragedy.  That  is,  he  asks:  What  is  the 
proper  effect  of  a  given  literary  type  upon 
the  spectator  or  reader.'^  Having  answered 
this  question  for  'literary  comedy'  in  a  way 
that  satisfies  him,  he  proceeds  to  scrutinize 
the  means  by  which  the  desired  effect  has 
been  attained  or  missed  in  reputable  com- 
edies. To  some,  his  answer  regarding  the  end 
may  seem  final,  and  his  examination  cf  the 
means  too  casual  and  saltatory,  leaping  back 
and  forth  without  much  progress,  or  no  prog- 
ress save  through  variety  of  illustration. 
But,  with  the  instinct  of  genius,  he  does  lay 
stress  upon  ends,  and  not,  like  a  formalist, 
upon  means;  he  reaches  a  point  in  his  search 
from  which  others  may  conceivably  proceed 
further;  and  he  indicates  the  path  of  advance 
for  the  study  of  this  or  any  other  literary  type. 


20          THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

in.    STRUCTURE  AND  STYLE  OF 
THE  ESSAY 

'I  never  outline  my  novels  before  starting  on 
them,'  said  Meredith  to  Clodd.^  Would  that 
he  had  early  formed  the  habit  of  constructing 
a  plan  in  advance  for  everything  he  wrote. 
The  Essay  on  Comedy  does  not  clearly  follow 
a  predetermined  order,  and  therefore  wants 
the  lucidity  to  be  found,  let  us  say,  in  an 
essay  by  Matthew  Arnold,  where  the  march 
of  the  whole  is  settled  from  the  beginning, 
together  with  the  divisions  and  articulations 
of  the  parts,  down  to  the  separate  para- 
graphs, and  sometimes  to  individual  sen- 
tences. In  this  essay  of  Meredith  the  breadth 
and  comprehensiveness  we  have  noted  are 
pervasive  qualities  due  to  instinct  rather  than 
art,  and  there  is  some  lack  of  precision  in  the 
order  and  in  matters  of  detail.  A  formal 
scheme  by  parts  and  subdivisions  may,  in- 
deed, be  extracted  from  the  Essay  by  force 
(see  pp.  45-70).  From  this  scheme  we  may 
infer  that  certain  main  ideas,  and  a  tone  or 
mood  of  mind,  and  some  attention  to  chrono- 
logical sequence,  govern  the  whole,  and  that 
the  law  of  association,  and  chance  suggestion, 

'  Clodd,  p.  24. 


INTRODUCTION  21 

rule  in  the  development  of  paragraphs  and 
sentences. 

Conscious  art  is  shown  in  smaller  details. 
Meredith  consciously  aims  at  apt  illustrations 
and  striking  figures,  at  compression,  and  at 
novel  and  felicitous  collocations  in  diction. 
On  occasion  he  amplifies  profusely,  still  giv- 
ing the  impression  of  brevity  by  the  use  of 
asyndeton.  He  also  shows  a  tendency  to  ex- 
press himself  in  general  terms;  not  that  he 
avoids  concreteness,  but  that  he  omits  or 
conceals  the  local  and  particular.  Thus  he 
alters  'an  eminent  Frenchman,  M.  Littre,' 
to  'an  eminent  Frenchman.'  Or  he  speaks  of 
'the  light  of  Athene  over  the  head  of  Achilles' 
without  reminding  us  that  the  source  of  his 
figure  is  the  Hiad.  Or  again,  he  writes  a  page 
and  a  half  on  two  comedies  of  Augier  with- 
out naming  either  them  or  their  author.  His 
style  may  therefore  be  described  as  general 
and  allusive.  He  had  a  long  and  powerful, 
but  not  always  exact,  memory,  wliich  he 
trusted,  with  the  result  that  it  sometimes 
played  him  false.  The  ornaments  of  his 
style,  then,  are  in  no  small  measure  freely 
drawn  from  his  wide  and  discursive  reading — 
from  Shakespeare,  Pascal,  Goethe,  Swift,  and 
the  like.    So  far  as  I  have  observed,  he  owes 


n         THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

Httle  to  the  diction  of  the  Bible;  at  least,  in 
comparison  with  Ruskin  or  Carlyle,  his  debt 
is  negligible. 

In  part  he  draws  liis  embellisliments  from 
external  nature,  and  although  this  source  is 
less  evident  in  the  Essay  on  Comedy,  I  can  not 
forbear  to  illustrate  the  point  by  a  quotation 
from  Lord  Morley:^ 

'Nobody  in  prose,  and  I  almost  dare  to 
say  nobody  in  verse,  has  surpassed  Meredith 
in  precision  of  eye  and  color  and  force  of 
words  for  landscape,  from  great  masterpieces 
like  the  opening  pages  of  Vittoria,  or  the  night 
cm  the  Adriatic  in  Beauchamp,  down  to  the 
thousand  vignettes,  miniatures,  touches,  that 
in  all  his  work  bring  the  air,  clouds,  winds, 
trees,  light,  storm,  with  magic  truth  and  fasci- 
nation for  background  and  illumination  to  his 
stage.  He  lived  at  every  horn*  of  day  and 
night  with  all  the  sounds  and  shades  of  nature 
open  to  his  sensitive  perception.  These  di- 
vine and  changing  effects  were  not  only  poetry 
to  him,  nor  scenery;  what  Wordsworth  calls 
the  "business  of  the  elements"  was  an  es- 
sence of  his  life.  To  love  this  deep  compan- 
ionship of  the  large  refreshing  natural  world 
brought  unspeakable  fulness  of  being  to  him, 

'  Morley  1.  38-39. 


INTRODUCTION  23 

as  it  was  one  of  his  most  priceless  lessons  to 
men  of  disposition  more  prosaic  than  his 
own.' 

In  the  entire  world  of  letters  two  men  stand 
out  pre-eminently  for  Meredith:  Goethe,  the 
sage,  well-rounded  man,  and  Moliere,  the 
comic  poet.  But  in  point  of  style  he  has  fol- 
lowed neither.  The  natural  clarity,  ease,  and 
emphasis  of  Goethe,  who  always  writes  pure 
and  clear  German,  and  who,  if  he  ever  be- 
comes diflBcult  to  understand,  does  so,  not 
because  of  obscurity  in  the  medium  he  em- 
ploys, but  when  his  subject  itself  taxes  our 
powers  of  thought— these  are  not  the  prop- 
erty of  Meredith.  Nor  is  the  lucidity  of 
Moliere  his,  either — that  lucidity,  combined 
with  distinction,  which  is  characteristic  of 
Menander,  Terence,  and  their  following,  down 
to  Congreve  and  Sheridan  and  French  com- 
edy of  the  present  day.  Highly  as  he  may 
praise  it,  the  manner  is  not  in  his  possession. 
If,  as  Lord  Morley  says,  Meredith  inherited 
something  in  the  way  of  thought  and  expres- 
sion from  Peacock,  he  is  also  a  debtor  to  Jean 
Paul,  and  therefore  not  without  points  of 
similarity  to  Carlyle.  In  the  end  he  carried 
the  use  of  compression,  and  of  hints,  oblique 
indications,  symbolical  gesture,  and  indu"ec- 


24  THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

lion,  to  an  excess,  desiring  the  reader  to  find 
too  much  between  the  words  and  Hnes  in 
proportion  to  what  the  words  and  sentences 
directly  offer.  Doubtless  the  truly  pregnant 
writer — for  example,  Pascal — gives  with  a  few 
phrases  far  more  thought  than  at  first  sight 
they  seem  to  contain ;  but  even  at  first  glance 
the  utterances  of  Pascal  contain  much. 
Such  is  not  always  the  case  with  Meredith. 
On  this  head  we  can  not  do  better  than  consult 
Lord  Morley,  a  lifelong  friend  of  the  novelist, 
and  a  judge  who  will  not  be  suspected  of  cold 
impartiality  or  disdain:^ 

'In  spite  of  his  protest  and  remonstrance, 
I  could  not  always  deny  that  I  found  a  page 
or  a  chapter  in  a  novel  obscure  and  beyond 
my  understanding — some  riddle  of  elabo- 
rated motive,  or  coil  of  incident,  or  dazzling 
tennis-play  of  dialogue.  It  is  of  no  avail 
for  any  writer  to  contend  that  he  is  not  ob- 
scure. If  the  world,  with  every  reason  for 
the  most  benevolent  will  possible,  and  sin- 
cerest  effort,  still  find  liim  obscure,  then  for 
his  audience  obscure  he  stands.  If  the  charge 
is  largely  made,  is  not  the  verdict  already  as 
good  as  found?  If  the  gathering  in  a  great 
hall  make  signs  that  they  cannot  hear  me, 

■  Morley  1.  40. 


INTRODUCTION  25 

it  is  idle  for  me  to  persist  that  my  voice  is 
perfectly  audible.  The  truth  is  that  Meredith 
often  missed  ease.  Yet  ease  in  words  and 
artistic  form  has  been  a  mark  of  more  than 
one  of  his  contemporaries,  who  amid  the 
world's  riddles  saw  deepest  and  felt  warm- 
est.' 

These  strictures,  however,  touch  the  Essay 
on  Comedy  only  in  an  incidental  way  when 
Meredith's  allusions  are  explained  as  I  hope 
I  have  explained  them  in  the  Notes.  But 
the  Essay  possibly  marks  the  turning-point 
from  his  earlier  to  his  later  style.  The  Ego- 
ist, published  two  years  later  (1879),  is  in 
some  sense  an  outgrowth  of  the  Essay,  serv-  y. 
ing  to  illustrate  the  theory  of  comedy  he  had 
enounced;  and  The  Egoist  is  open  to  the  charge 
of  fastidiousness  of  diction,  undue  compres- 
sion of  language,  and  inattention  to  the  prob- 
able difBculties  of  the  reader.  After  1891 
these  cjualities  became  accentuated  in  nearly 
all  that  he  wrote. 


26         THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

IV.    REFERENCES  TO  THE  ESSAY 

Meredith's  lecture,  as  we  have  seen,'  was 
delivered  on  February  1,  1877.  Apparently 
he  had  been  at  work  on  it  as  early  as  Novem- 
ber 3,  1876,  for  he  writes  on  that  day  to  Miss 
Alice  Brandreth :  ^ 

'And  besides  I  am  very  busy,  and  shall  get 
no  work  done  for  next  year  if  I  cease  to  lash 
myself;  and  I  am  disturbed  about  my  lec- 
ture, and  doubt  if  it  will  please.' 

According  to  M.  Photiades,  the  attendance 
at  the  lecture  was  good,^  for  he  mentions 
'  the  company  which  assembled  in  large  num- 
bers at  the  London  Institution  on  the  first  of 
February,  1877.' 

On  a  Saturday  following  (probably  Febru- 
ary 3)  Meredith  wrote  to  Morley:  * 

'One  line.  All  went  well.  Morison  in  one 
of  his  enthusiasms,  which  make  one  remem- 
ber that  one  has  word  praise.  Audience  very 
attentive  and  indulgent.  Time  1  h.  25  m., 
and  no  one  left  the  hall,  so  that  I  may  imag- 
ine there  was  interest  in  the  lecture.  Pace 
moderate;    but    Morison    thinks    I    was    in- 

'  See  p.  7,  and  compare  pp.  ITl-lTi.  2  Letter)  1.  269. 

'Photiades,  George  Meredith,  1913,  p.  52. 
*LeU«rs\.  270-271. 


INTRODUCTION  27 

telligible  chiefly  by  the  distinctness  of  ar- 
ticulation.' ; 

The  lecture  was  then  printed,  'with  amend- 
ments,' ^  in  the  New  Quarterly  Magazine  for 
April,  1877  (vol.  8,  pp.  1-40).  The  April 
number  of  this  magazine  appeared  early,  for 
on  March  31  Meredith  wrote  to  Morley:  ^ 

'The  article  on  Comedy  is  out — cursed 
with  misprints  that  make  me  dance  gadfly- 
bitten,' 

On  April  4  he  wrote  again  to  Morley  to 
the  same  effect: ' 

'There  are  horrid  errors  in  the  printing  of 
the  "Comic" — some,  I  am  afraid,  attributa- 
ble to  me.  I  am  the  worst  of  correctors  of  my 
own  writing.'  ^ 

That  the  lecture  differed  in  certain  respe<'ts 
from  the  Essay  as  we  have  it  in  the  Neio 
Quarterly  Magazine  may  be  seen  at  a  glance 
in  the  following  report  of  the  lecture  in  the 
London  Times. 

'  See  the  article  on  Meredith,  by  Thomas  Seccoinbe,  in  the 
Diet.  Nat,  Biog.,  Second  Supplement. 

^Leilers  1.  272. 

'Letters  1.  274. 

*  A  proof  of  the  article  for  the  New  Quarterly  Magazine,  'with 
the  author's  corrections,'  was  subsequently  presented  by  Mis» 
J.  L.  Benecke  to  the  British  Museum,  where  it  still  remalus; 
see  The  Works  of  George  Meredith,  vol.  36,  p.  313  (London,  1011). 


28         THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

V.    EXTRACT  FROM  THE  TIMES 

(London,  February  5,  1877 ') 

COMEDY 

On  Thursday  afternoon  an  interesting  lec- 
ture was  delivered  at  the  London  Institution 
by  Mr.  George  Meredith  on  The  Idea  of 
Comedy.  There  was  a  numerous  and  appreci- 
ative audience.  What  he  offered,  he  said, 
was  meant  as  an  introduction  to  the  study  of 
comedy,  dweUing  especially  on  the  uses  of 
the  comic  spirit,  which  he  defined  as  the 
genius  of  thoughtful  laughter.  Perhaps  a 
chapter  on  farces  might  be  more  entertaining, 
but  what  he  was  to  treat  of  was  quite  dis- 
tinct from  farce.  There  were  men  whom 
Rabelais  would  call  'agelasts,'  or  non- 
laughers,  whom  we  should,  perhaps,  style 
Puritans,  and  at  the  other  extreme  were  the 
hypergelasts,  or  Bacchanalians — ever-laugh- 
ing men.  Neither  of  the  two  classes  would 
relish  The  Rape  of  the  Lock  or  the  Tartuffe. 
The  Bacchanalians  can  not  understand  our 
speaking  seriously  of  comedy,  and  the  Puri- 
tans deem  it  immoral  to  do  so.  Our  Eng- 
lish Comedy  of  Manners  imder  the  Merry 
1  P.  4,  col.  5. 


INTRODUCTION  29 

IMonarch  was  Bacchanalian  beyond  the  Aris- 
tophanic  example.  In  the  middle  path 
only,  between  the  Puritans  and  the  mindless 
roisterers,  who  would  both  smother  a  good 
thing,  should  we  walk  safely.  Our  English 
idea  of  a  comedy  of  manners  might  be  imageil 
in  a  blowsy  country  Hoyden  putting  on 
the  city  madam,  with  all  her  native  rawness 
peering  through  the  French  polish.  If  we 
believe  that  idle,  meaningless,  unwise  laugh- 
ter is  the  best  of  recreations,  significant  com- 
edy, which  calls  forth  thoughtful  laughter 
and  makes  us  better  men  and  women,  will 
seem  pale  and  shallow  in  comparison.  la 
that  Caroline  age  female  modesty  was  pro- 
tected at  the  play  by  a  fan.  That  fan  was 
the  flag  of  the  epoch  which  gave,  in  the  so- 
called  Comedy  of  Manners,  a  comedy  of 
Samoeide  manners  under  city  veneer,  and  was 
as  empty  of  the  comic  idea  as  the  mask  with- 
out the  face  behind  it.  It  was  not  public 
caprice,  as  Elia  seems  to  have  thought,  but 
a  bettering  state  of  things,  when  the  fan  with 
the  eyelet-hole  was  pitched  away.  That  fan 
brained  the  Wycherley  school  of  comedy.  A 
like  fate,  though  from  the  other  side  of  the 
house,  befell  the  heavy  and  tearful  drama 
with  the  moral  kicked  to  it,  like  a  rod  fright- 


3»  THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

fuller  than  that  wielded  in  the  puplit.  Save 
Congreve's  Way  of  the  World  there  was 
neither  portraiture  nor  much  quotable  fun, 
neither  salt  nor  soul,  and  it  died.  Mr. 
Meredith  next  spoke  of  the  French  school  of 
stately  comedy,  to  which,  as  Jolm  Stuart 
Mill  said,  that  nation  owes  its  better  knowl- 
edge of  men  and  women.  Moliere  followed 
Horace,  and  marked  the  manners  of  his  age, 
but  without  raw,  realistic  painting.  He 
etherealized  his  characters.  Our  English 
school  has  not  clearly  imagined  society. 
True,  we  have  good  literary  comedies,  pleas- 
ant to  read,  and  now  and  then  to  see  acted. 
They  were  chiefly  drawn  from  the  Greek 
Menander  through  the  Roman  Terence. 
Shakespeare  is  a  well-spring  of  characters 
saturated  with  the  comic  spirit,  with  more 
blood-life  than  was  to  be  found  anywhere  else. 
They  are  of  this  world,  too,  but  of  this  world 
enlarged  to  our  embrace  by  great  poetic 
imagination.  They  are  creatures  of  the 
woods  and  wilds,  not  grouped  and  toned  to 
pursue  a  comic  exhibition  of  the  narrower 
world  of  society.  Had  he  lived  in  a  less 
heroical  and  later  period,  he  might  have 
turned  to  the  painting  of  manners  as  well  as 
of  man.    The  crowding  of  the  French  nobles 


INTRODUCTION  31 

to  the  Court  of  Louis  XIV  was  politically 
a  misfortune,  but  it  was  a  boon  to  the 
comic  ix)et.  It  was  then  shown  how  Moliere 
availed  himself  of  the  opportunity;  and  there 
followed  critical  appreciation  of  his  greatest 
plays,  especially  the  Tartuffe,  Les  Femrnes 
Sarantes,  and  the  Misanthrope.  Moliere  was 
in  modern  times  what  Menander  was  to  the 
Greek  and  Roman  world — ^the  prince  of  comic 
poets.  M.  Sainte-Beuve  conjures  up  the 
ghost  of  Menander,  saying:  'For  the  love  of 
me  love  Terence.'  Moliere,  like  Menander, 
idealized  upon  life.  The  foundation  of  their 
types  is  real  and  in  the  quick,  but  they 
painted  with  a  spiritual  strength,  which  is 
the  soUd  in  art.  This  idealistic  conception  of 
comedy  givesbreadth  and  opportunities  of 
daring  to  comic  genius — an  assertion  of  which 
abundance  of  illustrations  were  given.  Ital- 
ian comedy  gave  many  hints  for  a  Tartuffe, 
but  they  were  already  found  in  Boccaccio,  as 
well  as  in  Machiavelli.  Spanish  comedy  was 
next  glanced  at;  but  further  East  there  was  a 
total  silence  of  the  comic  Muse,  although  the 
Arabs  were  intensely  susceptible  to  the  comic, 
witness  the  Arabian  Nigfds.  There  had  been 
plenty  of  fun  in  Bagdad,  but  there  would 
never  be  civilization  there  until  comedy  was 


32         THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

possible  in  that  city,  which  the  Oriental  se- 
clusion of  females  seemed  to  forbid  any  hope 
of  for  a  long  time  to  come.  Speaking  gener- 
ally, the  English  were  most  in  sympathy  with 
the  primitive  Aristophanic  comedy,  in  which 
the  comic  is  capped  by  the  grotesque,  irony 
tips  the  wit,  and  satire  is  a  naked  sword.  The 
English  excel  in  satire,  and  are  racy  humor- 
ists; they  like  hard-hitting  with  a  moral  aim 
behind  it.  But  the  Comic  Spirit  was  differ- 
ent from  both  humor  and  satire.  Our  capac- 
ity for  comic  perception  might  be  gauged  by 
our  ability  to  detect  the  ridicule  of  those  we 
"Tove  without  loving  them  less,  and  to  wel- 
come  the  hint.  The  comic  was  the  govern- 
ing spirit  which  awakens  and  barbs  with  an 
aim  the  powers  of  laughter,  but  it  is  not  to  be 
confounded  with  them.  Mr.  Meredith  illus- 
trated the  distinctness  of  comedy  from  satire 
and  humor  by  reference  to  Fielding's  Jona- 
than Wild,  whose  grumbling  at  the  unfair- 
ness of  his  conviction  by  twelve  men  of  the 
opposite  party  was  neither  humor  nor  satire, 
but  was  intensely  comic.  Byron  had  great 
powers  of  satire  and  humor,  fused  at  times 
to  irony,  but  he  took  an  anti-social  position, 
directly  opposed  to  the  comic.  'When  he 
begins  to  philosophize,'  said  Goethe  of  him, 


INTRODUCTION  33 

*he  is  a  child.'  One  excellent  test,  the  lec- 
turer said,  of  the  civilization  of  a  country 
was  the  flourishing  of  comedy,  and  the  test 
of  a  true  comedy  is  its  calling  up  thoughtful 
laughter.  If  we  believed  (as  every  sane  man 
must)  our  culture  to  be  founded  on  common 
sense,  we  could  not  help  feeling  sure  that  the 
big  round  satyr's  guffaw  of  olden  times  would 
come  again,  but  in  tlie  finely-tempered  smile, 
or  silvery  laughter,  of  the  Comic  Spirit.  That 
Spirit  is  not  hostile  to  the  poetic,  witness 
Chaucer,  Shakespeare,  and  the  Covins  of 
Milton.  Sensitiveness  to  the  laugh  is  a  step 
in  civilization;  so  is  shrinking  from  laughter. 
Audience  and  poet  became  better  through  the 
lessons  of  comedy.  How  much  ability  was 
now  drifting  with  the  tides  in  novel-writ- 
ing, pun-hatching,  and  journalism  !  Names 
would  occur  to  them  of  those  who  had  the 
power  to  produce  good  work  in  comedy. 
Honorable  mention  followed  of  the  late  Mr. 
Robertson,  Mr.  Tom  Taylor,  Mr.  Gilbert, 
and  Mr.  Burnand.  The  blame  for  the  low 
state  of  comedy  among  us  lay,  not  with  au- 
thors, but  with  the  public. 


34  THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

VI.    MEREDITH'S  PRELUDE  ^  TO 
THE  EGOIST 

Comedy  is  a  game  played  to  throw  reflec- 
tions upon  social  life,  and  it  deals  with  human 
nature  in  the  drawing-room  of  civilized  men 
and  women,  where  we  have  no  dust  of  the 
struggling  outer  world,  no  mire,  no  violent 
crashes,  to  make  the  correctness  of  the  rep- 
resentation convincing.  Credulity  is  not 
wooed  through  the  impressionable  senses;  nor 
have  we  recourse  to  the  small  circular  glow  of 
the  watchmaker's  eye  to  raise  in  bright  re- 
lief minutest  grains  of  evidence  for  the  rout- 
ing of  incredulity.  The  Comic  Spirit  con- 
ceives a  definite  situation  for  a  number  of 
characters,  and  rejects  all  accessories  in  the 
exclusive  pursuit  of  them  and  their  speech. 
For,  being  a  spirit,  he  hunts  the  spirit  in 
men;  vision  and  ardor  constitute  his  merit: 
he  has  not  a  thought  of  persuading  you  to 
believe  in  liim.  Follow  and  you  will  see. 
But  there  is  a  question  of  the  value  of  a  run 
at  his  heels. 

Now  the  world  is  possessed  of  a  certain  big 


'  'A  Chapter  of  Which  the  Last  Page  Only  is  of  Any  Im- 
portance'— Meredith's  ars<timeDt  at  the  bead  of  tlie  chapter. 
The  Egoiat  was  published  in  1879. 


INTRODUCTION  35 

book,  the  biggest  book  on  earth;  that  might 
indeed  be  called  the  Book  of  Earth;  whose 
title  is  the  Book  of  Egoism,  and  it  is  a  book 
full  of  the  world's  wisdom.  So  full  of  it,  and 
of  such  dimensions,  is  this  book,  in  which  the 
generations  have  written  ever  since  they  took 
to  writing,  that  to  be  profitable  to  us  the 
Book  needs  a  powerful  compression. 

Who,  says  the  notable  humorist,  in  allusion 
to  this  Book — who  can  studiously  ti-avel 
through  sheets  of  leaves  now  capable  of  a 
stretch  from  the  Lizard  to  the  last  few  poor 
pulmonary  snips  and  shreds  of  leagues  danc- 
ing on  their  toes  for  cold,  explorers  tell  us, 
and  catching  breatli  by  good  luck,  like  dogs 
at  bones  about  a  table,  on  the  edge  of  tlie 
Pole  ?  Inordinate  unvaried  length,  sheer 
longinquity,  staggers  the  heart,  ages  the  very 
heart  of  us  at  a  view.  And  how  if  we  manage 
finally  to  print  one  of  our  pages  on  the  crow- 
scalp  of  that  solitary  majestic  outsider  ?  We 
may  with  effort  get  even  him  into  the  Book; 
yet  the  knowledge  we  want  will  not  be  more 
present  with  us  than  it  was  when  the  chap- 
ters hung  their  end  over  the  cliff  you  ken  of 
at  Dover,  where  sits  our  great  lord  and  master 
contemplating  the  seas  without  upon  the  re- 
flex of  that  within  ! 


36  THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

In  other  words,  as  I  venture  to  translate 
him  (humorists  are  difficult:  it  is  a  piece  of 
their  humor  to  puzzle  our  wits),  the  inward 
mirror,  the  embracing  and  condensing  spirit, 
is  required  to  give  us  those  interminable  mile- 
post  piles  of  matter  (extending  well-nigh  to 
the  very  Pole)  in  essence,  in  chosen  samples, 
digestibly.  I  conceive  him  to  indicate  that 
the  realistic  method  of  a  conscientious  tran- 
scription of  all  the  visible,  and  a  repetition 
of  all  the  audible,  is  mainly  accountable  for 
our  present  branfulness,  and  for  that  pro- 
longation of  the  vasty  and  the  noisy,  out  of 
which,  as  from  an  undrained  fen,  steams  the 
malady  of  sameness,  our  modern  malady. 
We  have  the  malady,  whatever  may  be  the 
cure  or  the  cause.  We  drove  in  a  body  to 
Science  the  other  day  for  an  antidote;  which 
was  as  if  tired  pedestrians  should  mount  the 
engine-box  of  headlong  trains;  and  Science 
introduced  us  to  our  o'er-hoary  ancestry — 
them  in  the  Oriental  posture.  Whereupon 
we  set  up  a  primeval  chattering  to  rival  the 
Amazon  forest  nigh  nightfall,  cured,  we 
fancied.  And  before  daybreak  our  disease 
was  hanging  on  to  us  again,  with  the  exten- 
sion of  a  tail.  We  had  it  fore  and  aft.  We 
were  the  same,  and  animals  into  the  bargain. 
That  is  all  we  got  from  Science. 


INTRODUCTION  37 

Art  is  the  specific.  We  have  Uttle  to  learn 
of  apes,  and  they  may  be  left.  The  chief 
consideration  for  us  is,  what  particular  prac- 
tice of  Art  in  letters  is  the  best  for  the  perusal 
of  the  Book  of  our  common  wisdom;  so  that 
with  clearer  mmds  and  livelier  manners  we 
may  escape,  as  it  were,  into  daylight  and  song 
from  a  land  of  fog-horns.  Shall  we  read  it 
by  the  watchmaker's  eye  in  luminous  rings 
eruptive  of  the  infinitesimal,  or  pomted  with 
examples  and  types  under  the  broad  Alpine 
survey  of  the  spirit  born  of  our  united  social 
intelligence,  which  is  the  Comic  Spirit? 
Wise  men  say  the  latter.  They  tell  us  that 
there  is  a  constant  tendency  in  the  Cook  to 
accumulate  excess  of  substance,  and  such 
repleteness,  obscuring  the  glass  it  holds  to 
mankind,  renders  us  inexact  in  the  recog- 
nition of  our  individual  countenances — a 
perilous  thing  for  civilization.  And  these 
wise  men  are  strong  in  their  opinion  that  we 
should  encourage  the  Comic  Spirit,  who  is, 
after  all,  our  own  offspring,  to  relieve  the 
Book.  Comedy,  they  say,  is  the  true  diver- 
sion, as  it  is  likewise  the  key  of  the  great  Book, 
the  music  of  the  Book.  They  tell  us  how  it 
condenses  whole  sections  of  the  Book  in  a 
sentence,  volumes  in  a  character;  so  that  a 
fair  part  of  a  book,  outstripping  thousands  of 


38          THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

leagues  when  unrolled,  may  be  compassed  in 
one  comic  sitting. 

For  verily,  say  they,  we  must  read  what 
we  can  of  it — at  least  the  page  before  us — if 
we  would  be  men.  One,  with  an  index  on 
the  Book,  cries  out,  in  a  style  pardonable  to 
his  fervency:  The  remedy  of  your  frightful 
affliction  is  here,  through  the  stillatory  of 
Comedy,  and  not  in  Science,  nor  yet  in 
Speed,  whose  name  is  but  another  for  vorac- 
ity. Why,  to  be  alive,  to  be  quick  in  the 
soul,  there  should  be  diversity  in  the  com- 
panion-throbs of  your  pulses.  Interrogate 
Ihem.  They  lump  along  like  the  old  lob- 
legs  of  Dobbin  the  horse;  or  do  their  business 
like  cudgels  of  carpet-thwackers  expelling 
dust,  or  the  cottage-clock  pendulum  teaching 
the  infant  hour  over  midnight  simple  arith- 
metic. This,  too,  in  spite  of  Bacchus.  And 
let  them  gallop;  let  them  gallop  with  the  God 
bestriding  them,  gallop  to  Hymen,  gallop  to 
Hades,  they  strike  the  same  note.  Mon- 
strous monotonousness  has  enfolded  us  as 
with  the  arms  of  Amphitrite !  We  hear  a 
shout  of  war  for  a  diversion.  Comedy  he 
pronounces  to  be  our  means  of  reading  swiftly 
and  comprehensively.  She  it  is  who  proposes 
the  correcting  of  pretentiousness,  of  inflation, 


INTRODUCTION  39 

of  dulness,  and  of  the  vestiges  of  rawness  and 
grossness  to  be  found  among  us.     She  is  the 
ultimate  civnlizer,  the  poHsher,  a  sweet  cook. 
If,  he  says,  she  watches  over  sentimentaHsm 
with  a  birch-rod,  she  is  not  opposed  to  ro- 
mance.    You  may  love,  and  warmly  love,  so 
long  as  you  are  honest.     Do  not  offend  rea- 
son.    A  lover  pretending  too  much,  by  one 
foot's  length  of  pretence,  will  have  that  foot 
caught  in  her  trap.    In  comedy  is  the  singular 
scene  of  charity  issuing  of  disdain  under  the 
stroke   of   honorable   laughter;   an    Ariel   re- 
leased by  Prospero's  wand  from  the  fetters 
of   the   damned   witch   Sycorax.      And    this 
laughter   of    reason    refreshed    is    floriferous, 
like    the    magical    great    gale    of    the    shifty 
spring  deciding  for   summer.     You    hear    it 
giving  the  delicate  spirit  his  liberty.     Listen, 
for  comparison,  to  an  unleavened  society:  a 
lovv  as  of  the  udderful  cow  past  milking  hour  ! 
O  for  a  titled  ecclesiastic  to  curse  to  excom- 
munication  that   unholy   thing!     So   far   an 
enthusiast   perhaps;   but   he   should    have    a 
hearing. 

Concerning  pathos,  no  ship  can  now  set 
sail  without  pathos;  and  we  are  not  totally 
deficient  of  pathos;  whch  is,  I  do  not  accur- 
ately know  what,  if  not  the  ballast,  reducible 


40  THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

to  moisture  by  patent  process,  on  board  our 
modern  vessel;  for  it  can  hardly  be  the  cargo, 
and  the  general  water-supply  has  other  uses; 
and  ships  well  charged  with  it  seem  to  sail 
the  stiffest — there  is  a  touch  of  pathos.  The 
Egoist  surely  inspires  pity.  He  who  would 
desire  to  clothe  himself  at  everybody's  ex- 
pense, and  is  of  that  desire  condemned  to 
strip  himself  stark  naked — he,  if  pathos  ever 
liad  a  form,  might  be  taken  for  the  actual 
person.  Only,  he  is  not  allowed  to  rush  at 
you,  roll  you  over,  and  squeeze  your  body  for 
the  briny  drops.     There  is  the  innovation. 

You  may  as  well  know  him,  out  of  hand,  as 
a  gentleman  of  our  time  and  country,  of 
wealth  and  station;  a  not  flexile  figure,  do 
what  we  may  with  him;  the  humor  of  whom 
scarcely  dimples  the  surface,  and  is  distin- 
guishable but  by  very  penetrative,  very 
wicked  imps,  whose  fits  of  roaring  below  at 
some  generally  imperceptible  stroke  of  his 
quality  have  first  made  the  mild  literary 
angels  aware  of  something  comic  in  him,  when 
they  were  one  and  all  about  to  describe  the 
gentleman  on  the  heading  of  the  records 
baldly  (where  brevity  is  most  complimentary) 
as  a  gentleman  of  family  and  property,  an 
idol  of  a  decorous  island  that  admires  the 


INTRODUCTION  41 

concrete.  Imps  have  their  freakish  wicked- 
ness in  them  to  kindle  detective  vision;  ma- 
lignly do  they  love  to  uncover  ridiculousness 
in  imposing  figures.  Wherever  they  catch 
sight  of  Egoism  they  pitch  their  camps,  they 
circle  and  squat,  and  forthwith  they  trim 
their  lanterns,  confident  of  the  ludicrous  to 
come;  so  confident,  that  their  grip  of  an  Eng- 
lish gentleman,  in  whom  they  have  spied 
their  game,  never  relaxes  until  he  begins  in- 
sensibly to  frolic  and  antic,  unknown  to  him- 
self, and  comes  out  in  the  native  steam  which 
is  their  scent  of  the  chase.  Instantly  off  they 
scour,  Egoist  and  imps.  They  will,  it  is 
known  of  them,  dog  a  great  House  for  cen- 
turies, and  be  at  the  birth  of  all  the  new  heirs 
in  succession,  diligently  taking  confirmatory 
notes,  to  join  hands  and  chime  their  chorus 
in  one  of  their  merry  rings  round  the  totter- 
ing pillar  of  the  House,  when  his  turn  ar- 
rives; as  if  they  had  (possibly  they  had) 
smelt  of  old  date  a  doomed  colossus  of  Ego- 
ism in  that  unborn,  unconceived  inheritor  of 
the  stuff  of  the  family.  They  dare  net  be 
chuckling  while  Egoism  is  valiant,  while 
sober,  while  socially  valuable,  nationally 
serviceable.     They  wait. 

Aforetime  a  grand   old  Egoism   built  the 


42          THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

House,  It  would  appear  that  ever-finer  es- 
sences of  it  are  demanded  to  sustain  the 
structure;  but  especially  would  it  appear 
that  a  reversion  to  the  gross  original,  be- 
neath a  mask,  and  in  a  vein  of  fineness,  is  an 
earthquake  at  the  foundations  of  the  House. 
Better  that  it  should  not  have  consented  to 
motion,  and  have  held  stubbornly  to  all  an- 
cestral ways,  than  have  bred  that  ana- 
chronic spectre.  The  sight,  however,  is  one 
to  make  our  squatting  imps  in  circle  grow 
restless  on  their  haunches,  as  they  bend  eyes 
instantly,  ears  at  full  cock,  for  the  commence- 
ment of  the  comic  drama  of  the  suicide.  If 
this  line  of  verse  be  not  yet  in  our  literature — 

Through  very  love  of  self  himself  he  slew — 
let  it  be  admitted  for  his  epitaph. 


ANALYSIS  OF  THE   ESSAY 


ANALYSIS  OF  THE  ESSAY 

PART  I.    THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

I.  Introduction.      Good    comedies    rare    in 

English    literature,    though    the    comic 
element  abounds.     75  1-9. 

II.  The  comic  poet  an  infrequent  apparition. 

75  10-80  8. 

A.  He  needs  a  cultivated  society.  75  10- 

76  2. 

B.  Both  he  and  his  audience  must  pos- 

sess a  subtle  delicacy.    76  3-20. 

C.  He  is  beset  with  special  foes.    76  21- 

80  8. 

1.  'Agelasts' — that    is,    non-laughers, 

or  Puritans.     76  24-77  8. 

2.  'Hypergelasts' — that  is,  excessive 

laughers,  or  Bacchanalians.     77 
9-19. 
a.  Contention  between  these  two 
parties.     77  20-79  28. 
i.  Bacchanalian       origin       of 
Greek    comedy.        78  8- 
79  10. 
45 


46          THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

a.     Puritan  objection  to  Res- 
toration comedy.     79  10- 
28. 
b.  The  right  position  midway  be- 
tween the  extremes.    80  1-8. 
3.  Sentimentalists.     [See  IV,  B.] 
III.     EngHsh  comedy  in  general — the  Com- 
edy of  Manners.     80  9-88  19. 

A.  A  t>T)ical  comedy.     80  9-82  16. 

1.  Sketch  of  the  plot.    80  9-81  8. 

2.  The   heroine's   wit  as   indicating,' 

popular  taste.     81  9-82  16. 

B.  Pervading   coarseness,   and   lack   of 

comic  idea.     82  17-83  9. 

C.  Decline  of  the  Comedy  of  Manners. 

83  10-84  27. 

1.  Lamb     laments     its     extinction. 

83  10-17. 

2.  But  the  stock  villains,   dotards, 

and   flirts   are   best   forgotten. 

83  17-84  8. 

3.  Distaste  for  realism   consequent 

on  a  bettering  state  of  society. 

84  9-27. 

D.  English    comedy    contrasted    with 

French.     84  28-87  15. 
1.  Difference  in  aim — distinction  be- 


ANALYSIS  47 

tween  ce  qui  remue  and  ce  qui 
^rrveni.     84  28-85  10. 

2.  Difference     in     method — French     \ 

generalization  as  against  Eng- 
lish realism.     85  11-86  5. 
a.  M oliere  follows  Horatian  prin- 
ciples in  drawing  character. 

85  17-20. 
6.  French  perception  of  the  gen- 
eral,  above   the   individual,      / 
in   human   nature.     85  20-     I 

86  5.  -^ 

3.  The  reason  for  these  differences —  \ 

English  lack  of  genuine  comic   / 
perception.     86  6-87  15.  ^ 

a.  Not    a    lack    of    dramatic    or 

poetic  talent.     86  14-26.  ? 

h.  Jonson,  Massinger,  and  Fletch-     ' 
er  incomplete  comic  poets. 
86  26-87  15. 
E.  Shakespeare    the    great    exception. 
87  16-88  19. 

1.  His  characters  saturatefl  wnlh  the\ 

comic    spirit;    real,    but    ideal-    \ 
ized.     87  16-88  5.  / 

2.  His  kinship  with  Menander.    88  / 

6-19. 


48          THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

IV.     Relation  of  comedy  to  society.     88  20- 
97  14. 

A.  Career  of  Moliere  as  an  example. 

88  20-91  2. 

1.  He  was  stimulated  by  the  bril- 

liant Court  of  Louis  XIV.  88 
20-89  8. 

2.  But  his  success  was  really  due  to 

the  quick-witted  bourgeoisie  of 
Paris.     89  9-26. 

3.  In  several  plays  he  aims  to  cor- 

rect the  foibles  of  society.  89 
27-90  20. 

a.  Les    Precietises    Ridicules    de- 

rided the  popular  romantic 
jargon.     90  1-4. 

b.  Les  Femmes  Savantes  was   di- 

rected    against    purism     in 
language.     90  4-13. 

c.  Le  Misanthrope  displayed  the 

opposition    of    Alceste    and 
Celimene.     90  14-20. 

4.  Cultivated  men  and  women  of  the 

middle  class  the  best  critics. 
Moliere  is  their  poet.  90  20- 
91  2. 

B.  Comedy     and     tlie     sentimentalists 


ANALYSIS  49 

[the  third  foe  of  the  comic  poet; 
see  II,  C\.     91  3-92  4. 

1.  Sentimentalists  in  England  large- 

ly drawn   from  the  cultivated 
classes.     91  3-6. 

2.  Characteristics.     91  G-24. 

a.  Disdain   of   the   actual   world. 

91  6-11. 

b.  Propensity  to  moralizing.     91 

11-16. 

c.  Dread  of  the  leveling  effect  of 

comedy.     91   16-24. 

3.  Composition:  chiefly  women,  dis- 

tinguished    by    two    exclama- 
tions.    91  25-92  4. 
C.   Comedy  and  women.     92  5-94  8. 
1.  Comedy     influential     in     placing 
women    on    an    equality    with 
men.     92  5-94  2. 
a.  It  shows  women's  wit  on  the 
side    of    sound    sense,  e.  g., 
Dorine,      Celimene,      Milla- 
mant.     92  11-26. 
6.  The  objection  that  comic  hero- 
ines are  heartless  comes  of 
a   false   education   in   taste. 

92  27-93  13. 

c.   The  comic  poet  shows  women 


50         THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

growing  liker  to  men  tlirough 
contact  with  them.     93  14- 
94  2. 
2.  Summary:  loss  of  a  large  audi- 
ence through  the  sentimental- 
ism  of  women.     94  3-8. 

D.  The  effect  upon  society  of  bad  tra- 

ditions in  comedy.    94  9-96  5. 

1.  The  Plain  Dealer  typical  of  Eng- 

lish taste.     94  11-19. 

2.  Bad    traditions    a    handicap    to 

writers;    e.  g..    Goldsmith   and 
Fielding.     94  19-27. 

3.  Bad  traditions  an  evil  in  social 

life.     94  28-95  2. 

4.  Bad  traditions  cause  monotony  in 

literature.     95  3-96  5. 
V  a.  Use    of    stock    images;    e.  g., 
T  'Life  as  a  comedy.'    95  3-18. 

h.  Recurrence  of  outworn  situa- 
tions.    95  18-96  5. 

E.  'Life  as  a  comedy.'    96  5-97  14. 

1.  In    view    of    English   comedy,    a 

cynical  phrase.    96  5-10. 

2.  Judged  by  Moliere's  comedy,   a 
just  observation.    96  11-97  14. 

a.  His    plays    never    vulgar,    be- 


(!• 


ANALYSIS  51 

cause  deeply  conceived.     96 
14-19. 

b.  His  characters  designed  to  lash 

themselves.     96  19-27. 

c.  His  excellent  technique  height- 

ens the  effect  of  his  teaching. 
98  27-97   14. 
i.  Style  pure  and  simple.    96 

27-97  1. 
ii.  Wit  sound  and  pervasive. 

97  1-7. 
Hi.  His  moral  the  total  effect 
of  an  organic  structure. 
97  7-14.  ^ 

V.     Congreve  and  Moliere.     97  15-106  15. 
A.  The   Way  of  the   World,   Congreve's 
masterpiece.     97  15-101  8. 

1.  An  exception  among  English  com- 

edies for.     97  15-98  18 

a.  Brilliancy  of  the  writing.   97  17.  L 

b.  The  figure  of  MUlamant.   97  18. 

2.  Its   wit   contrasted   with   that   of 

Moliere.     98  18-99  5. 

a.  Congreve's  wit  a  Toledo  blade. 

98  19-23. 

b.  Moliere's  wit  a  running  brook  \ 

of  healing  proi>erties.    98  23- 

99  5. 


52  THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

r  c.  Congreve  lacking  in  real  capac- 
\  ity.     99  6-100  11. 

i.  Quotation   from  Lander  on 

wit.     99  6-12. 
a.  The  wit  of  Congreve  at  best 
superficial;  e.  g.,  a  passage 
from    The    Way    of   the 
World.     99  12-100  11. 
Congreve's  literary  excellence.    100 
12-101  8. 

a.  Force,     correctness,     alertness, 
fluency.     100  12-18. 

b.  Proper  style  in  dialogue;  e.  g.. 
Lady  Wishfort.    100  18-101  8. 

B.  Millamant.     101  9-102  26. 

1.  An  admirable  heroine,  evincing  the 
skill  of  the  writer.     101  9-102  8. 

a.  Her  personality  clearly  defined. 
101  10-24. 
i.  Portrayed  in  all  her  speeches. 

101  10-21. 
a.  Summarized     in     Mirabell's 

description.    101  22-24. 
Examples  of  vivacious  dialogue. 
101  26-102  8. 

2.  Comparison  with  Celimene.      102 
9-26. 


ANALYSIS  53 

a.  More   vivid,   more   bewitching,     f 

102  9-13.  ^■ 

b.  Less    witty,    less    permanently     { 

significant.     102  13-26.  _J 

C.   Celimene.     102  26-106  15. 

1.  A  woman  of  the  world;  clear-eyed 

and  honest.     102  26-103  4. 

2.  Her  relation   to  Alceste.      103  4- 

105  10. 

a.  She  the  active  spirit;  he  only 

passively  comic.     103  16-23. 

b.  Not  blind  to  the  folly  of  his  ex- 

tremes.    103  23-104  14. 

c.  Contrasted  with  him.     104  15- 

105  10. 
i.  Worldliness      agamst      un- 

worldliness.     104  15-23. 
ii.  Flexibility    against   intoler- 
ance.    104  23-105  4. 
iii.  Alceste  a  Jean  Jacques  of 
the  Court.     105  5-10.     ^ 

3.  Her  solution  of  the  'comic  ques- 

tion' of  the  play.    105  10-106  2. 

4.  A    knowledge    of    human   nature 

necessary  to  the  appreciation 
of  Celimene  and  Le  Misan- 
thrope.    106  3-15. 
VL     Menander.    106  16-112  11. 


54         THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

A.  Did  he  elevate  the  prevailing  con- 

ception of  women  ?    1 06  16-10719. 

1.  Sketch    of    the    lost    Misogynes. 

106  16-107  1. 

2.  Thais  and  the  Andrians.  10710-15. 

3.  The  restrictions  upon  comic  poets 

m    portraying    honest    women. 

107  15-19. 

B.  Relation   of  Terence  to  Menander. 

107  20-110  15. 

1.  The  four  Terentian  comedies  de- 

rived from  Menander  as  the 
chief  source  of  our  knowledge  of 
the  Greek  poet.  107  20-108  14. 
a.  Quotations    in    other    writers 

inadequate.     108  15-22. 
h.  Plutarch's  comparison  of  Me- 
V  nander     and     Aristophanes 

one-sided.     109  4-11. 

2.  The  fidelity  of  the  Latin  adapta- 
tions conjectural.  10911-11010. 

The  ill  fate  of  his  writings.     110  16- 

111   11. 
1.  Only    a    fraction    represented    in 
Terence.     110  17-111  11. 

a.  Manuscripts  sent  from  Greece 

tto  Rome  lost  by  shipwreck. 
110  27-111  2. 


f' 


ANALYSIS  55 

D.  His  kinship  with  MoUere.     Ill  12- 
112  11. 

1.  The  quintessence  of  the  comic  in 

their  writings.     Ill  12-19. 

2.  The  principal  comic  tj-pes  trace- 

able to  them.     Ill  19-112  7. 

3.  Their  power  due  to  the  idealized 

treatment  of  life.     112  7-11. 
Vn.     The   idealistic   conception   of  comedy, 
112  12-115  10. 

A.  Necessary    to    the    success    of   the 

comic  poet.     112  12-18. 

1.  It  enlarges  the  scope  of  comedy. 

112  12-14. 

2.  It  helps  to  solve  the  difficulties  it 

creates.     112  14r-18, 

B.  Moliere's  Tartu fe  as  an  illustration. 

112  18-115  10. 

1.  Comic  sympathy  overcomes  un- 

realities in  the  plot.      112  18- 

113  11. 

2.  Artistic  treatment  heightens  all 

comic  effects.     113  12-24. 

3.  Superiority  over  other  '  Tartuffes ' 

in  literature.     113  25-115  10. 
a.  Machiavelli's    Frate    Timoteo 
only  an  oily  friar.     113  25- 
114  8.  ^ 


5G         THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

\    b.  Spanish    impostors    palpably 
J  untrue  to  life,  because  the 

J  status   of   women   in   Spain 

I  makes  genuine  comedy  im- 

V,  possible.     114  16-115  10. 

VIII.     Relation  of  comedy  to  the  status  of 
women.     115  11-119  7. 
A.  Comedy    in    Germany.      115    11- 
116  23. 

1.  The  comic   element  in   several 

-writers.     115  11-23. 
(  a.  Heine's  image  of  his  country 
\  in    the    dancing    of    Atta 

J  Troll.     115  11-13. 

;  b.  Lessing's  failure  in  comedy. 
1  115  13-19. 

j  c.   Jean     Paul     Richter's     Sie- 
i  benkds   und  Lenette.      115 

19-21. 
\jd.  Goethe    not   without   comic 
perception.     115  21-23. 

2.  The  psychology  of  the  German 

laugh.      115  24-116  23. 
C  a.  Infrequent,  tending  to  coarse- 
J  ness.     115  24r-27. 

/   b.  Never  a  laugh  of  men  and 
\^  women    in    concert.      115 

27-116  3. 


ANALYSIS  57 

c.  The  national  sentimentalism'  % 

makes    spiritual    laughter  / 
impossible.     116  3-15.  | 

d.  Lumbersome    nature   of   the     I 

German       comic       spirit.    / 
116  5-18.  U 

3.  The  absence  of  comic  dialogue, 
due  to  the  poor  voice  allowed 
to  women  m  domestic  life. 
116  18-21. 

B.  Comedy  in  the  East.    11624-11810. 

1.  Total  silence  of  worthy  comedy. 

116  24-117  (5. 

a.  Arabs  intensely  susceptible  to 

laughter.      116  24-26.  / 

b.  But    the    coarseness    of   the  >, 

comic  spirit  varies  as  the 
method  of  treating  women. 
116  27-117  6. 

2.  Anecdote  to  illustrate  the  Arab's 

attitude  to  women.     117    7- 
118  2. 

3.  Lack  of  comedy  evinces  an  m- 

complete     civiHzation.       118 
3-5. 

C.  Comedy    partly    dependent    upon 

social    equality    of    the    sexes. 
118  5-119  7. 


58         THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

1.  Women  blind  to,  swell  the  ranks 

of  the  sentimentalists.      118 
10-12. 
[See  IV,  B  and  C] 

2.  The    condition    of    comedy    a 

register     of     the     status     of 
women.     118  12-119  7. 
^ a.  No  social  freedom:  no  com- 
)  edy.     118  13-15. 

Some  independence  without 
cultivation :  melodrama 
and  sentimentalism.  118 
17-19. 
Some  measure  of  equality: 
pure  comedy  in  life,  if  not 
yet  on  the  stage.  118  26- 
119  7. 

PART  II.    THE  USES  OF  THE 
COMIC  SPIRIT 

The  comic 'as  an  auxiUar  against  folly. 

119  8-122  17. 
A.  The  defects  m.  our  methods  against 
folly.     119  15-121  21. 

1.  Common  sense  too  irritable.     119 
22-120  6. 

2.  Contempt  a  foolish  weapon.     120 
7-16. 


Ui 


ANALYSIS  59 

3.  Defensive    tactics    slow    and    inef- 
fective.    120  23-121  21. 
a.  Folly's  conquests  are  made  while 
her    foes    prepare.      120    23- 
121  2. 
h.  If    ultimately    overtlirown,    she     j 
can  boast  great  mischief  done.^j 
121  2-18. 
B.  These  defects  due  to  the  neglect  of  the 
comic  idea.     121  22-122  17. 

1.  England's    need    of    great    comic 

writers  such  as  Aristophanes, 
Rabelais,  Voltaire,  Cervantes, 
Fielding,  Moliere.      121  22-28. 

2,  The  comic  as  opposed  to  mere  jok- 

ing.    122  1-17. 
c.  The    comic    more    subtle,    ad- 
dressed to  the  wits.    122  5-10. 
b.  The    comic    sense    blunted    by 
punning,  etc.     122  10-17. 
II.     The  comic  as  a  corrective  of  dulness. 
122  18-126  11. 
A.  Anecdote  to  illustrate  this  function. 
122  18-125  5. 

1.  The  death  of  Due  Pasquier  at  an 

advancetl  age.     122  18-21. 

2.  The   propriety    of   longevity    sol- 

emnly disputed.    122  23-123  22. 


t>0         THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

3.  How    Aristophanes    would     have 

treated    the    theme.      123    23- 
124  22. 

4,  This  a  question  fit  only  for  comic 

interpretation,     124  13-15. 

B.  The  comic  draws  laughter  from  dul- 
I  ness  itself.     125  5-10. 

C.  The  comic  removes  the  causes  of  bore- 

dom.    125  11-27. 

1.  It  silences  prosers.     125  14-17. 

2.  It  blows  away  unreason  and  sen- 

timentalism.     125  23-27. 

D.  But  is  the  comic  too  much  for  us." 

125  27-126  11. 
in.     The  comic  in  public  affairs.      126  12- 
129  20. 

A.  England's  need  of  the  spirit  of  an 

Aristophanes.     126  12-19. 

B.  Aristophanes  as  a  political  force  in 

Athens.     126  20-129  17. 

1.  His  attacks  on  corruption.      126 

20-24. 

2.  The  checks  on  his  power.      126 

24-127  3. 

3.  His  gift  of  common  sense.      127 

3-13. 

4.  His  conservatism.     127  14-23. 


ANALYSIS  61 

5.  The  idea  of  good  citizenship  in 

his  comedies.     127  23-28. 

6.  Aristophanes    an     aggregate     of 

many  great  men.     128  14-22. 

7.  The    magnitude    of    his    conflict. 

128  23-129  5. 

8.  His  versatiHty.     129  5-17. 

C.  His  method  worth  our  study.     129 
17-20. 
IV.     Estimate   of  the  English   comic   sense. 
129  21-133  8. 

A.  The   Enghsh   pubHc   most   in   sym- 

pathy with  Aristophanic  comedy. 
129  21-28. 

1.  Taste  for  the  grotesque,  for  irony, 

and  for  satire.     129  23-25 

2.  Strong  common  sense  the  basis  for 

the  comic.     129  25-28. 

B.  What    ails    the    English?      129    28- 

132  17. 

1.  Too  many  punsters.     130  3-10. 

2.  Lack  of  the  comic  spirit.    130  10- 

23, 
a.  Anecdote     of     the     tyrannous 
hostess.     130  15-23. 
S.  Undeveloped    social    sense.      130 
24-132  17. 


THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

a.  Anecdote    of    the    burial-com- 
pany.    131  10-22. 
^b.  Anecdote  of  the  book  cm  cab- 
fares.     131  22-27. 
c.  Anecdote  of  the  young  horse- 
man.     131  27-132  17. 
C.  "What  have  they  of  the  comic  ?     132 
18-133  8. 

1.  No  lack  of  comic  writers  in  prose, 

as    Fielding,    Goldsmith,    Miss 
Austen,  Gait.     132  19-24. 

2.  Excellence  in  satire  and   humor. 

132  27-133  2. 

3.  Tendency  to  a  sentimental  geni- 

ality.    133  3-8. 

The  comic  in  relation  to  kindred  qual- 
ities.    133  9-136  27. 
A.  The  test  of  comic  perceptitm.      133 
9-24. 

1.  Can  you  detect  what  is  ridiculous 

in  your  friends.''     133  9-11. 

2.  Can  you  admit  what  is  ridiculous 

in  yourself  to  your  friends  ?    133 
12-14. 
a.  Illustration  of  the  affectionate 
couple  in  a  quarrel.     133  15- 
24. 


ANALYSIS  63 

B.  The  comic  distinguished  from:     133 

25-134  12. 

1.  Satire.     133  25-27. 

2.  Irony.     133  28-134  6. 

3.  Humor.     134  7-12. 

C.  Comic  p)erception  defined.      134   13- 

21. 

D.  These    distinctions    illustrated.      134 

22-136  10. 

1.  Anecdote    from    Jonathan     Wild. 

134  22-135  12. 

2.  Fielding's  attitude  to  Richardson; 

Parson  Adams.     135  13-17. 

3.  Alceste,   Tartuffe,   Celimene,   Phi- 

laminte.     135  17-27. 

4.  Byron.     135  28-136  10. 

E.  Characterization  of:     136  11-27. 

1.  The  satirist.     136  11-12. 

2.  The  ironist.     136  13-21. 

3.  The  humorist.     136  22-27. 

a.  Of  a  mean  order.     136  22-25. 

b.  Of  a  high  order.     136  25-27. 
VI.     The  humorist  and  the  comic  poet.     136 

28-141  2. 
A.  The  humorist.     136  28-138  27. 

1.  Has  greater  scope  than  the  comic 
poet;  e.  g.,  Don  Quixote.  136- 
28-137   18. 


a         THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

a.  Comedy  in  the  juxtaposition  of 

knight  and  squire.     137  1-4. 

b.  Humor    in    the    opposition    of 

their  natures.     137  4-1 G. 

c.  Tragic  sentiment  in  the  hero's 

ideaHsm.     137  16-18. 

2.  Sometimes  lacks  perception.     137 

19-138  19. 

a.  Is  irritable,  wilful,  wanting  dis- 
cretion; e.g.,  'a  living  .  .  . 
humorist'  [Carlyle].  137 
19-138  15. 

h.  Tends  to  caprice  and  senti- 
mentality; e.  g.,  Sterne.  138 
15-19. 

3.  Needs  the  generalizing  mfluence 

of  comedy.     138  20-27. 
a.  Proportion      and      taste      de- 
veloped by  the  comic  spirit. 
138  20-22. 
h.  The  French  debt  to  Moliere. 

138  22-27. 

B.  The  comic  poet.     138  28-141  2. 

1.  Has    a    narrow    field    and    a    re- 
stricted audience.       138  28-139 
10. 
a.  Addresses    only    the    intellect. 

139  2-5. 


ANALYSIS  65 

b.  Is  concerned  chiefly  with  ex- 
ternals.    139  5-7. 

2.  Is  often  misunderstood.     139  10- 

18. 

a.  His  fynction  is  not  grasped  by 

the  sentimental.     139  10-13. 

b.  He    is    accused    of    cynicism. 

139  13-18. 

3.  Is    no    mere    mocker.       139  18- 

140  23. 

a.  Never    ridicules    poverty,    but 

only  pretension;  e.  g.,  Caleb 
Balderstone,  and  'poor  rela- 
tions.'    139  18-140  3. 

b.  Is  more  subtle  than  humorist, 

satirist,   or  ironist.      140  4- 
14. 
i.  Anecdote  of  Beau  Brummell 
and  the  Prince.    140  6-14. 

c.  Is  averse  to  derision.     140  15- 

23. 
4.  Laughs  impersonally  and  thought- 
fully.    140  24-141  2. 
VII.     Recapitulation:    141  3-7. 

A.  The  test  of  civilization:  the  flour- 

ishing of  comedy.     141  3-5. 

B.  The  test  of  true  comedy :  thoughtful 

laughter.     141  6-7. 


66         THE   IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

VUI.     The  comic  spirit.     141  8-147  12. 

A.  Figurative     conception.      141     8- 

142  03. 

1.  Its  origin  in  the  common  sense 

of  mankind.     141  8-17. 

2.  Its  appearance.     141  18-142  3. 

3.  Its  function.     142  4-19. 

a.  To  correct  disproportion. 

142  4-13. 
h.  To  develop  the  social  sense. 
142  13-19. 

4.  Its  method.     142  19-23. 

5.  The  perception  of  its  presence  a 

test  of  intelligence.     142  24- 
27. 

B.  Relation  to  the  individual.  142  28- 

144  21. 

1.  Common  sense  a  prerequisite  to 

its  benefits.     142  28-143  8. 

2.  What  the  comic  spirit  does  for 

one.     143  9-144  4. 
o.  Spares   the  pain  of  satirical 
heat;    e.  g.,    Moliere's    re- 
venge on  his  critics.     143 
12-21. 

b.  Gives  fellowship  with  great 

mmds.     143  21-144  1. 


ANALYSIS  67 

c.   Relieves    depression,    weari- 
ness, vanity.     144  1-4. 
3.  WTiat  the  comic  spirit  refrains 
from.     144  4-^1. 

a.  Does  not  exclude  imagina- 
tion or  devotion  or  poet- 
ry; e.  g.,  Chaucer,  Shake- 
speare, Milton,  Pope,  Cow- 
per.     144  4-13. 

h.  Is  not  hostile  to  the  priestly 
element  except  when  cor- 
rupt; the  relation  between 
Bossuet  and  Moliere.  144 
13-21. 
C.  The  quality  of  its  laughter.     144 

22-147  12. 

1.  Laughter  a  thing  open  to  per- 

version.    144  22-145  2. 

a.  Tliat  of  comic  pulpits  ques- 
tionable.    144  22-28. 

h.  The  scornful  and  brutal  sorts 
not  unknown.  144  28-145 
2. 

2.  The  laughter  of  the  comic  spirit 

wholly  beneficial.      145  2-26. 

a.  Like    harmless    wine,    fresh 

air,  a  .sparkling  well.     145 


68         THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

b.  Aristophanes  on  the  fttnction 

of  the  comic.     145  14-22. 

c.  The  comic  laugh  a  factor  in 

civilization.    145  23-2«. 
3.  The  breadth  of  the  comic  laugh. 
145  26-147  12. 

a.  The  laughter  of  stormy  fun 

(.\ristophanes) ;  e.  g.,  a 
scene  from  the  Frogs, 
passages  in  Rabelais  and 
Don  Quixote,  and  a  chap- 
ter in  Peregrine  Pickle. 
146  9-25. 

b.  The   laughter   of   the    mind 

(Moliere);  e.  g.,  Le  Mi- 
santhrope, Le  Tartufc.  146 
25-147  8. 

c.  The       intermediate       laugh 

(Shakespeare      and      Cer- 
vantes).    147  8-12. 
IX.     Results  of  the  absence  of  the  comic  idea. 
147  13-154  12. 
A.  Lack   of   perceptive   delieacy.      147 
13-149  14. 

1.  Not  incompatible  with  powerful 

mentality.     147  18-148  1. 

2.  Exclusive  of  good  taste.    148  1-5. 

3.  The  cause  of  arrogance. — Anec- 


.\NALYSIS  GQ 

dote  of  the  English  professor. 
148  6-16. 
4.  A    hindrance    to    the    learned    in 
society.     148  17-149  14. 

a.  The     danger     of     honization. 

148  23-27. 

b.  The  confusion  of  ideas  in  fash- 

ionable circles.      148  27-149 
14. 
B.  Germany  as  an  example.     149  15- 
152  27. 

1.  Curious  barbarism  among  a  cul- 

tivated nation. — Anecdote  of 
the  German  professor.  149  15- 
150  16. 

2.  No  national  training  in  the  comic. 

150  17-151  7. 

a.  Heine  not  enough.     150  26-27. 

b.  The  national  bias  too  strong  in 

controversy.     150  27-151  7. 

3.  Contrast  with  the  French.      151 

7-27. 

a.  The    French    schooled    in    La 

Bruyere,  La  Fontaine,  Mo- 
liere.     151  7-15. 

b.  The    German    a    Titan,    the 

Frenchman  a  god.     151  16- 
27. 


70         THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

4.  This  the  great  defect  among  their 

great  talents.     151  28-152  10. 

5.  The  nation  not  incapable  of  comic 

development.     152  11-27. 

a.  Goethe  their  great  exemplar. 

152  16-18. 

b.  Social  intercourse  with  women 

necessary.     152  18-27. 
C.  Realism  of  modern  French  comedy 
[as  in  Augier].     152  28-154  12. 

1.  Its  direct  study  of  life  commend- 

able.    152  28-153  4. 

2.  General  sameness  in  the  several 

writers.     153  4-7. 

3.  Sketch  of  two  stock  cliaracters. 

153  8-154  4. 

a.  An  Aventuriere  m  the  decorous 

world.     153  8-17. 

b.  A  goodish  young  man  to  ob- 

struct   her   path.     153    17- 
154  4. 

4.  The     total     effect     unsatisfying. 

154  4-12. 

X.     Advantages  of  the  writing  of  comedy. 
154  13-155  17. 
A.  To  the  public.     154  13-19. 

1.  The  comic  idea  most  perceptible  in 
a  corned V.     154  13-17. 


ANALYSIS  71 

2.  Lessons  taken  in  congregations  the 
most  effective.     154  17-19. 

B.  To  the  writers.     154  19-28. 

1.  An  incentive  to  close  observation  of 

men.     154  19-24. 

2.  A    corrective    of    style.      154  24- 

28. 

a.  Of  pedantry  in  the  great.     154 

24-26. 

b.  Of  solecisms  in  the  small.     154 

2G-28. 

C.  To  the  national   taste  in   literature. 

154  28-155  17. 

1.  An    antidote    to    cheap    writing. 

154  28-155  G. 

2.  An    education    in    just    criticism. 

155  7-17. 

XI.     Conclusion.     The  state  of  criticism  in 
England.     15S  17-25. 


ON  THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY  AND  OF 
THE  USES  OF  THE  COMIC  SPIRIT 


ON  THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

AND  OF  THE  USES  OF 
THE  COMIC  SPIRIT 

Good  comedies  are  such  rare  productions  ^ 
that,  notwithstanding  the  wealth  of  our 
literature  in  the  comic  element,  it  would  not 
occupy  us  long  to  run  over  the  English  list. 
If  they  are  brought  to  the  test  I  shall  pro-  5 
pose,  very  reputable  comedies  will  be  found 
unworthy  of  their  station,  like  the  ladies  of 
Arthur's  Court  when  they  were  reduced  to 
the  ordeal  of  the  mantle. 

There   are   plain    reasons    why    the   comic    10 
pK)et  is  not  a  frequent  apparition,  and  why 
the    great   comic    poet    remains    without   a 
fellow.     A    society    of    cultivated    men    and 
women  is  required,  wherein  ideas  are  current, 
and  the  perceptions  quick,  that  he  may  be   15 
supplied  with  matter  and  an  audience.     The 
semi-barbarism  of  merely  giddy  communities, 
and   feverish   emotional   periods,    repel   him; 
and  also  a  state  of  marked  social  inequality 
of  the  sexes;  nor  can  he  whose  business  is  to   20 
address  the  mind  be  understood  where  there 
75 


76         THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

is  not  a  moderate  degree  of  intellectual  ac- 
tivity. 

Moreover,  to  touch  and  kindle  the  mind 
through  laughter  demands,  more  than  spright- 
5   liness,  a  most  subtle  delicacy.    That  must  be 
a  natal  gift  in  the  comic  poet.    The  substance 
he  deals  with  will  show  him  a  startling  exhi- 
bition of  the  dyer's  hand,  if  he  is  without  it. 
i'eople  are  ready  to  surrender  themselves  to 
1     witty  thumps  on  the  back,  breast,  and  sides; 
all  except  the  head — and  it  is  there  that  he 
<  aims.     He  must  be  subtle  to  penetrate.     A 
corresponding  acuteness  must  exist  to  wel- 
come him.     The  necessity  for  the  two  con- 
13   ditions  will  explain  how  it  is  that  we  count 
him  during  centuries  in  the  singular  number. 
'C'est   une   etrmige   entrepri^e   que   celle   de 
Jaire  rire  les  honnetes  gens,'  Moliere  says;  and 
tlie  difficulty  of  the  undertaking  cannot  be 
20   overestimated. 

Then  again,  he  is  beset  with  foes  to  right 
and  left,  of  a  character  unknown  to  the  tragic 
and  the  lyric  poet,  or  even  to  philosophers. 
We  have  in  this  world  men  whom  Rabelais 
25  would  call  'agelasts';  that  is  to  say,  non- 
laughers — men  who  are  in  that  respect  as 
dead  bodies,  which,  if  you  prick  them,  do  not 
bleed.     The  old  gray  boulder-stone,  that  has 


THE   COMIC  SPIRIT  77 

finished  its  peregrination  from  the  rock  to 
the  valley,  is  as  easily  to  be  set  rolling  up 
again  as  these  men  laughing.  No  collision 
of  circumstances  in  our  mortal  career  strikes 
a  light  for  them.  It  is  but  one  step  from  5 
being  agelastic  to  misogelastic,  and  the 
fua6ye\ws,  the  laughter-hating,  soon  learns  to 
dignify  his  dislike  as  an  objection  in  morality. 
We  have  another  class  of  men  who  are 
pleased  to  consider  themselves  antagonists  of  10 
the  foregoing,  and  whom  we  may  term  '  hyper- 
gelasts';  the  excessive  laughers,  ever-laughing, 
who  are  as  clappers  of  a  bell,  that  may  be 
rung  by  a  breeze,  a  grimace;  who  are  so 
loosely  put  together  that  a  wink  will  shake  15 
them. 

C'est  n'estimer  rien  qu'estimer  tout  le  monde; 

and  to  laugh  at  everything  is  to  have  no  ap- 
preciation of  the  comic  of  comedy. 

Neither  of  these  distinct  divisions  of  non-  20 
laughers  and  over-laughers  would  be  enter- 
tained by  reading  The  Rape  of  the  Lock,  or 
seeing  a  performance  of  Le  Tartuffe.  In  re- 
lation to  the  stage,  they  have  taken  in  our 
land  the  form  and  title  of  Puritan  and  Bac-  25 
chanalian;  for  though  the  stage  is  no  longer 
a  public  offender,  and  Shakespeare  has  been 


78         THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

revived  on  it,  to  give  it  nobility,  we  have 
not  yet  entirely  raised  it  above  the  conten- 
tion of  these  two  parties.  Our  speaking  on 
the  theme  of  comedy  will  appear  almost  a  lib- 

5  ertine  proceeding  to  one,  while  the  other  will 
think  that  the  speaking  of  it  seriously  brings 
us  into  violent  contrast  with  the  subject. 

Comedy,  we  have  to  admit,  was  never  one 
of  the  most  honored  of  the  Muses.     She  was 

10  in  her  origin,  short  of  slaughter,  the  loudest 
erpression  of  the  little  civilization  of  men. 
The  light  of  Athene  over  the  head  of  Achilles 
illuminates  the  birth  of  Greek  tragedy.  But 
comedy  rolled  in  shouting  under  the  divine 

15  protection  of  the  Son  of  the  Wine-jar,  as 
Dionysus  is  made  to  proclaim  himself  by 
Aristophanes.  Our  second  Charles  was  the 
patron,  of  like  benignity,  of  our  Comedy  of 
Manners,  which  began  similarly  as  a  com- 

20  bative  performance,  under  a  license  to  deride 
and  outrage  the  Puritan,  and  was  here  and 
there  Bacchanalian  beyond  the  Aristophanic 
example — worse,  inasmuch  as  a  cynical  licen- 
tiousness is  more  abominable  than  frank  filth. 

25  An  eminent  Frenchman  judges,  from  the 
quality  of  some  of  the  stuff  dredged  up  for 
the  laughter  of  men  and  women  who  sat 
through  an  Athenian  comic  play,  that  they 


THE  COMIC  SPIRIT  79 

could  have  had  small  delicacy  in  other  af- 
fairs, when  they  had  so  little  in  their  choice  of 
entertainment.     Perhaps  he  does  not  make 
sufficient  allowance  for  the  regulated  license 
of    plain-speaking  proper  to  the  festival  of     5 
the  god,  and  claimed  by  the  comic  poet  as 
his  inalienable  right,  or  for  the  fact  that  it 
was  a  festival  in  a  season  of  license,  in  a  city 
accustomed  to  give  ear  to  the  boldest  utter- 
ance of  both  sides  of  a  case.     However  that   lo 
may  be,  there  can  be  no  question  that  the 
men  and  women  who  sat  through  the  acting 
of    Wycherley's     Country     Wife    were    past 
blushing.     Our  tenacity  of  national  impres- 
sions has  caused  the  word  'theatre'  since  then    15 
to  prod  the  Puritan  nervous  system  like  a 
Satanic  instrument;    just  as  one  has  known 
anti-papists    for    whom   Smithfield    was   re- 
dolent of  a  sinister  smoke,  as  though  they 
had  a  later  recollection  of  the  place  than  the   20 
lowing  herds.    Hereditary  Puritanism  regard- 
ing the  stage  is  met,  to  this  day,  in  many 
families   quite   undistinguished   by   arrogant 
piety.     It  has  subsided  altogether  as  a  power 
in  the  profession  of  morality;    but  it  is  an   25 
error  to  suppose  it  extinct,  and  unjust  also  to 
forget  that  it  had  once  good  reason  to  hate, 
shun,  and  rebuke  our  public  shows. 


80         THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

We  shall  find  ourselves  about  where  the 
comic  spirit  would  place  us,  if  we  stand  at 
middle  distance  between  the  inveterate  op- 
ponents and  the  drum-and-fife  supporters  of 

5  comedy.  '[Celui  qui  s'arrete]  fait  rcmarquer 
V evi'portement  des  autres,  comme  un  point  fixe,' 
as  Pascal  says.  And  were  there  more  in  this 
position,  comic  genius  would  flourish. 

Our  English  idea  of  a  comedy  of  manners 

10  might  be  imaged  in  the  person  of  a  blowsy 
country  girl — say  Hoyden,  the  daughter  of 
Sir  Tunbelly  Clumsey,  who,  when  at  home, 
never  disobej'ed  her  father  except  in  the 
'eating  of  green  gooseberries' — transforming 

15  to  a  varnished  city  madam,  with  a  loud  laugh 
and  a  mincing  step:  the  crazy  ancestress 
of  an  accountably  fallen  descendant.  She 
bustles  prodigiously,  and  is  punctually  smart 
in  her  speech,  always  in  a  fluster  to  escape 

20  from  Dulness,  as  they  say  the  dogs  on 
the  Nile-banks  drink  at  the  river  running 
to  avoid  the  crocodile.  If  the  monster  catches 
her,  as  at  times  he  does,  she  whips  him  to  a 
froth,  so  that  those  w^ho  know  Dulness  only 

25  as  a  thing  of  ponderousness  shall  fail  to  rec- 
ognize him  in  that  light  and  airy  shape. 

When  she  has  frolicked  through  her  five 
acts,  to  surprise  you   with   the   information 


THE  COMIC  SPIRIT  81 

that  Mr.  Aimwell  is  converted  by  a  sudden 
death  in  the  world  outside  the  scenes  into 
Lord  Aimwell,  and  can   marry  the  lady  iu 
the  light  of  day,  it  is  to  the  credit  of  her 
vivacious  nature  that  she  does  not  anticipate     5 
your  calling  her  Farce.     Five  is  dignity  wilh 
a  trailing  robe;    whereas  one,  two,  or  three 
acts  would   be  short  skirts,   and   degrading. 
Advice  has  been  given  to  householders  that 
they  should  follow  up  the  shot  at  a  burglar    lo 
in  the  dark  by  hurling  the  pistol  after  it,  so 
that  if  the  bullet  misses,   the  weapon   may 
strike,  and  assure  the  rascal  he  has  it.     The 
point  of  her  wit  is   in   this  fashion   supple- 
mented by  the  rattle  of  her  tongue,  and  ef-   15 
fectively,  Recording  to  the  testimony  of  her 
admirers. '    Her  wit  is  at  once,  like  steam  in 
an  engine,^  the  motive  force  and  the  warning 
whistle  of  her  headlong  course;    and  it  van- 
ishes like  the  track  of  steam  when  she  has    20 
reached    her    terminus,    never    troubling    the 
brains    afterward;    a    merit    that    it    shares 
witk^rood  wine,  to  the  joy  of  the  Bacchana- 
lians. 

As  to  this  wit,  it  is  warlike.    In  the  neatest   25 
hands  it  is  like  the  sword  of  the  cavaUer  in 
the  Mall,  quick  to  flash  out  upon  slight  prov- 
ocation, and  for  a  similar  oflBce — to  wound. 


82         THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

Commonly  its  attitude  is  entirely  pugilistic; 
two  blunt  fists  rallying  and  countering.  When 
harmless,  as  when  the  word  'fool'  occurs,  or 
allusions  to  the  state  of  husband,  it  has  the 

5  sound  of  the  smack  of  harlequin's  wand  upon 
clown,  and  is  to  the  same  extent  exhilarating. 
Believe  that  idle,  empty  laughter  is  the  most 
desirable  of  recreations,  and  significant  com- 
edy will  seem  pale  and  shallow  in  comparison. 

10  Our  popular  idea  would  be  hit  by  the  sculp- 
tured group  of  Laughter  holding  both  his 
sides,  while  Comedy  pummels,  by  way  of 
tickling  him.  As  to  a  meaning,  she  holds 
that  it  does  not  conduce  to  making  merry; 

15  you  might  as  well  carry  cannon  on  a  racing- 
yacht.  Morahty  is  a  duenna  to  be  circum- 
vented. This  was  the  view  of  English  com- 
edy of  a  sagacious  essayist,  who  said  that  the 
end  of  a  comedy  would  often  be  the  com- 

20  mencement  of  a  tragedy,  were  the  curtain  to 
rise  again  on  the  performers.  In  those  old 
days  female  modesty  was  protected  by  a  fan, 
behind  which — and  it  was  of  a  convenient 
semicircular  breadth — the  ladies  present  in 

25  the  theatre  retired  at  a  signal  of  decorum,  to 
peep,  covertly  askant,  or  with  the  option  of 
so  peeping,  through  a  prettily-fringed  eyelet- 
hole  in  the  eclipsing  arch. 


THE  COI^nC  SPIRIT  83 

Ego  limis  specto 
sic  per  flabellum  clanculum. 

— Tebence. 

That  fan  is  the  flag  and  symbol  of  the  society 
giving  us  our  so-called  Comedy  of  Manners,  5 
or  comedy  of  the  manners  of  South-Sea  is- 
landers under  city  veneer;  and,  as  to  comic 
idea,  vacuous  as  the  mask  without  the  face 
behind  it. 

Elia,  whose  humor  delighted  in  floating  a    lO 
galleon  paradox,  and  wafting  it  as  far  as  it 
would  go,  bewails  the  extinction  of  our  arti- 
ficial comedy,  like  a  poet  sighing  over  the 
vanished  splendor  of  Cleopatra's  Nile-barge; 
and  the  sedateness  of  his  plea,  for  a  cause   15 
condemned  even  in  his  time  to  the  peniten- 
tiary, is  a  novel  effect  of  the  ludicrous.   When 
the  realism  of  those  'fictitious,  half-believed 
personages,'  as  he  calls  them,  had  ceased  to 
strike,  they  were  objectionable  company,  un-   20 
caressable    as    puppets.      Their   artifices    are 
staringly  naked,  and  have  now  the  effect  of 
a  painted  face,  viewed,  after  warm  hours  of 
dancing,  in  the  morning  light.     How  could 
the  Lurewells  and  the  Plyants  ever  have  been   25 
praised  for  ingenuity  in  wickedness?     Critics 
apparently    sober,    and    of   liigh   reputation, 
held  up  their  shallow  knaveries  for  the  world 


84         THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

to  admire.  These  Lurewells,  Plyants,  Pinch- 
wifes,  Fondlewifes,  Miss  Prue,  Peggy,  Hoy- 
den, all  of  them  save  charming  Millamant, 
are  dead  as  last  year's  clothes  in  a  fashion- 

5  able  fine  lady's  wardrobe;  and  it  must  be  an 
exceptionably  abandoned  Abigail  of  our 
period  that  would  look  on  them  with  the  wish 
to  appear  in  their  likeness.  Whether  the 
puppet-show  of  Punch  and  Judy  inspires  our 

10  street-urchins  to  have  instant  recourse  to 
their  fists  in  a  dispute,  after  the  fashion  of 
every  one  of  the  actors  in  that  public  enter- 
tainment who  gets  possession  of  the  cudgel, 
is  open  to  question;   it  has  been  hinted;   and 

15  angry  moralists  have  traced  the  national  taste 
for  tales  of  crime  to  the  smell  of  blood  in  our 
nursery-songs.  It  will  at  any  rate  hardly  be 
questioned  that  it  is  unwholesome  for  men 
and  women  to  see  themselves  as  they  are,  if 

20  they  are  no  better  than  they  should  be;  and 
they  will  not,  when  they  have  improved  in 
manners,  care  much  to  see  themselves  as  they 
once  were.  That  comes  of  realism  in  the 
comic  art;    and  it  is  not  public  caprice,  but 

25  the  consequence  of  a  bettering  state.  The 
same  of  an  immoral  may  be  said  [as]  of  real- 
istic exhibitions  of  a  vulgar  society. 

The  French  make  a  critical  distinction  in 


THE  COMIC  SPIRIT  85 

ce  qui  remue  from  ce  qui  Smeut — that  which 
agitates  from  that  which  touches  with  emo- 
tion. In  the  realistic  comedy  it  is  an  inces- 
sant remuage;  no  calm — merely  busthng  fig- 
ures— and  no  thought.  Excepting  Congreve's  5 
Way  of  the  World,  which  failed  on  the  stage, 
there  was  nothing  to  keep  our  comedy  alive 
on  its  merits;  neither,  with  all  its  realism, 
true  portraiture,  nor  much  quotable  fun,  nor 
idea;   neither  salt  nor  soul.  M> 

The  French  have  a  school  of  stately  com- 
edy  to   which   they   can   fly   for  renovation 
whenever  they  have  fallen  away  from  it;  an  J 
their  having  such  a  school  is  mainly  the  rea- 
son why,  as  John  Stuart  Mill  pointed  out,    ?"» 
they  know  men  and  women  more  accurately 
than  we  do.     Moliere  followed  the  Horatian 
precept,  to  observe  the  manners  of  his  age, 
and  give  his  characters  the  color  befitting 
them  at  the  time.     He  did  not  paint  in  raw   4> 
realism.     He  seized  his  characters  firmly  for     : 
the   central    purpose   of   the   play,   stamped 
them  in  the  idea,  and,  by  slightly  raising  and 
softening  the  object  of  study  (as  in  the  case 
of  the  ex-Huguenot,  Due  de  Montausier,  for   fj 
the  study  of  the  Misanthrope,  and,  accord- 
ing to  Saint-Simon,  the  Abb6  Roquette  for 
Tartuffe),  generalized  upon  it  so  as  to  make 


86         THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

it  permanently  human.  Concede  that  it  is 
natural  for  human  creatures  to  live  in  soci- 
ety, and  Alceste  is  an  imperishable  mark  of 
one,   though   he   is   drawn   in   light   outline, 

5   without  any  forcible  human  coloring. 

Our  English  school  has  not  clearly  imagined 
society;  and  of  the  mind  hovering  above  con- 
gregated men  and  women  it  has  imagined 
nothing.     The  critics  who  praise  it  for  its 

10  downrightness,  and  for  bringing  the  situa- 
tions home  to  us,  as  they  admiringly  say, 
cannot  but  disapprove  of  Moliere's  comedy, 
which  appeals  to  the  individual  mind  to  per- 
ceive and  participate  in  the  social.     We  have 

15  splendid  tragedies,  we  have  the  most  beauti- 
ful of  poetic  plays,  and  we  have  literary 
comedies  passingly  pleasant  to  read,  and  oc- 
casionally to  see  acted.  By  literary  com- 
edies, I  mean  comedies  of  classic  inspiration, 

89  drawn  chiefly  from  Menander  and  the  Greek 
New  Comedy  through  Terence;  or  else  com- 
edies of  the  poet's  personal  conception,  that 
tave  had  no  model  in  life,  and  are  humorous 
exaggerations,    happy   or   otherwise.      These 

25  are  the  comedies  of  Ben  Jonson,  Massinger," 
and  Fletcher.  Massinger 's  Justice  Greedy 
we  can  all  of  us  refer  to  a  type,  'with  good 
tsapon  lined,'  that  has  been,  and  will  be;  and 


THE  COiVnC  SPIRIT  87 

he  would  be  comic,  as  Panurge  is  comic,  but 
only  a  Rabelais  could  set  him  moving  with 
real  animation.  Probably  Justice  Greedy 
would  be  comic  to  the  audience  of  a  country 
booth,  and  to  some  of  our  friends.  If  we  5 
have  lost  our  youthful  relish  for  the  presen- 
tation of  characters  put  together  to  fit  a  type, 
we  find  it  hard  to  put  together  the  mechan- 
ism of  a  civil  smile  at  his  enumeration  of  his 
dishes.  Something  of  the  same  is  to  be  said  lo 
of  Bobadill,  swearing  'by  the  foot  of  Pharaoh'; 
with  a  reservation,  for  he  is  made  to  move 
faster,  and  to  act.  The  comic  of  Jonson  is  a 
scholar's  excogitation  of  the  comic;  that  of 
Masslnger  a  moralist's.  15 

Shakespeare  is  a  well-spring  of  characters 
which  are  saturated  with  the  comic  spirit; 
with  more  of  what  we  will  call  blood-life 
than  is  to  be  found  anywhere  out  of  Shake- 
speare; and  they  are  of  this  world,  but  they  29 
are  of  the  world  enlarged  to  our  embrace  by 
imagination,  and  by  great  poetic  imagina- 
tion. They  are,  as  it  were — I  put  it  to  suit 
my  present  comparison — creatures  of  the 
woods  and  wilds,  not  in  walled  towns,  not  25 
grouped  and  toned  to  pursue  a  comic  ex- 
hibition of  the  narrower  world  of  society. 
Juques,  Falstaff  and  his  regiment,  the  varied 


88         THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

troop  of  clowns,  Malvolio,  Sir  Hugh  Evans 
and  Fluellen  (marvelous  Welshmen!)  Bene- 
dick and  Beatrice,  Dogberry,  and  the  rest, 
are  subjects  of  a  special  study  in  the  poeti- 

5  cally  comic. 

His  comedy  of  incredible  imbroglio  belongs 
to  the  literary  section.  One  may  conceive 
that  there  was  a  natural  resemblance  between 
him  and  Menander,  both  in  the  scheme  and 

10  style  of  his  lighter  plays.  Had  Shakespeare 
lived  in  a  later  and  less  emotional,  less 
heroical,  period  of  our  history,  he  might 
have  turned  to  the  painting  of  manners 
as     well    as    humanity.       Euripides    would 

15  probably,  in  the  time  of  Menander,  when 
Athens  was  enslaved  but  prosperous,  have 
lent  his  hand  to  the  composition  of  ro- 
mantic comedy.  He  certainly  inspired  that 
fine  genius. 

20  Politically,  it  is  accounted  a  misfortune  for 
France  that  her  nobles  thronged  to  the  Court 
of  Louis  Quatorze.  It  was  a  boon  to  the 
comic  poet.  He  had  that  lively  quicksilver 
world  of  the  animalcule  passions,  the  huge 

25  pretensions,  the  placid  absurdities,  under  his 
eyes  in  full  activity;  vociferous  quacks  and 
snapping  dupes,  hypocrites,  posturers,  ex- 
travagants,  pedants,  rose-pink  ladies  and  mad 


THE  COMIC  SPIRIT  89 

grammarians,  sonnetteering  marquises,  high- 
flying mistresses,  plain-minded  maids,  inter- 
threading  as  in  a  loom,  noisy  as  at  a  fair. 
A  simply  bourgeois  circle  will  not  furnish  it, 
for  the  middle  class  must  have  the  brilliant,     5 
flippant,  independent  upper  for  a  spur   and 
a  pattern;    otherw-ise  it  is  likely  to  be  in- 
wardly dull,  as  well   as   outwardly   correct. 
Yet,  though  the  King  was  benevolent  toward 
Moliere,  it  is  not  to  the  French  Court  that   lo 
we  are  indebted  for  his  unrivaled  studies  of 
mankind  in  society.     For  the  amusement  of 
the  Court  the  ballets  and  farces  were  written, 
which  are  dearer  to  the  rabble  upper,  as  to 
the  rabble  lower,  class  than  intellectual  com-    15 
edy.     The  French  bourgeoisie  of  Paris  were 
sufficiently  quick-witted  and  enlightened  by 
education   to   welcome   great   works  like  Le 
Tartujfe,  Les  Femmes  Savantes,  and  Le  Mi- 
santhrope, works  that  were  perilous  ventures   20 
on   the  popular   intelligence,    big   vessels   to 
launch  on  streams  running  to  shallows.    The 
Tartuffe  hove  into  view  as  an  enemy's  ves- 
sel;   it  offended,  not  'Dieu,  viais  .  .  .  les  di- 
vots,^ as  the  Prince  de  Conde  explained  the   25 
cabal  raised  against  it  to  the  King. 

The  Femmes  Savantes  is  a  capital  instance 
of  the  uses  of  comedy  in  teaching  the  world 


90         THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

to  understand  what  ails  it.  The  farce  of  the 
Pricieuses  ridiculed,  and  put  a  stop  to,  the 
monstrous  romantic  jargon  made  popular  by 
certain  famous  novels.     The  comedy  of  the 

5  Femmes  Savantes  exposed  the  later  and  less 
apparent,  but  more  finely  comic,  absurdity 
of  an  excessive  purism  in  grammar  and  dic- 
tion, and  the  tendency  to  be  idiotic  in  pre- 
cision.    The  French  had  felt  the  burden  of 

10  this  new  nonsense;  but  they  had  to  see  the 
comedy  several  times  before  they  were  con- 
soled in  their  suffering  by  seeing  the  cause 
of  it  exposed.  ' 

The   Misanthrope   was    yet    more    frigidly 

15  received.  Moliere  thought  it  dead.  *I  can 
not  improve  on  it,  and  assuredly  never  shall,' 
he  said.  It  is  one  of  the  French  titles  to 
honor  that  this  quintessential  comedy  of 
the  opposition  of  Alceste  and  Celimene  was 

20  ultimately  understood  and  applauded.  In 
all  countries  the  middle  class  presents  the 
public  which,  fighting  the  world,  and  with 
a  good  footing  in  the  fight,  knows  the  world 
best.     It  may  be  the  most  selfish,  but  that 

25  is  a  question  leading  us  into  sophistries. 
Cultivated  men  and  women  who  do  not 
skim  the  cream  of  life,  and  are  attached  to 
the   duties,   yet    escape    the  harsher  blows. 


THE  COMIC  SPIRIT  91 

make  acute  and  balanced  observers.     Moliere 
is  their  poet. 

Of  this  class  in  England,  a  large  body, 
neither  Puritan  nor  Bacchanalian,  have  a 
sentimental  objection  to  face  the  study  of  5 
the  actual  world.  They  take  up  disdain  of 
it,  when  its  truths  appear  humiliating;  when 
the  facts  are  not  immediately  forced  on 
them,  they  take  up  the  pride  of  incredulity. 
They  live  in  a  hazy  atmosphere  that  they  lo 
suppose  an  ideal  one.  Humorous  writing 
they  will  endure,  perhaps  approve,  if  it 
mingles  with  pathos  to  shake  and  elevate 
the  feelings.  They  approve  of  satire,  be- 
cause, like  the  beak  of  the  vulture,  it  smelk  i5 
of  carrion,  which  they  are  not.  But  of  com- 
edy they  have  a  shivering  dread,  for  comedy 
enfolds  them  with  the  wretched  host  of  the 
world,  huddles  them  with  us  all  in  an  ig- 
noble assimilation,  and  cannot  be  used  by  20 
any  exalted  variety  as  a  scourge  and  a  broom. 
Nay,  to  be  an  exalted  variety  is  to  come 
under  the  calm,  curious  eye  of  the  Comic 
Spirit,  and  be  probed  for  what  you  are. 
Men  are  seen  among  them,  and  very  many  25 
cultivated  women.  You  may  distinguish 
them  by  a  favorite  phrase:  'Surely  we  are 
not  so   bad!'   and   the   remark:     'If  that  is 


92         THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

human  nature,  save  us  from  it!' — as  if  it 
could  be  done;  but  in  the  peculiar  paradise 
of  the  wilful  people  who  will  not  see,  the  ex- 
clamation assumes  the  saving  grace, 
s  Yet,  should  you  ask  them  whether  they 
dislike  sound  sense,  they  vow  they  do  not. 
And  question  cultivated  women  whether  it 
pleases  them  to  be  shown  moving  on  an  in- 
tellectual level  with  men,  they  will  answer 

19  that  it  does;  numbers  of  them  claim  the 
situation.  Now  comedy  is  the  fountain  of 
sound  sense;  not  the  less  perfectly  sound 
on  account  of  the  sparkle;  and  comedy  lifts 
women  to  a  station  offering  them  free  play 

i'i  for  their  wit,  as  they  usually  show  it,  when 
they  have  it,  on  the  side  of  sound  sense. 
The  higher  the  comedy,  the  more  prominent 
tlie  part  they  enjoy  in  it.  Dorine  in  the 
Tartuffe  is  common  sense  incarnate,  though 

20  palpably  a  waiting-maid.  Celimene  is  un- 
disputed mistress  of  the  same  attribute  in 
the  Misanthrope;  wiser  as  a  woman  than 
Alceste  as  man.  In  Congreve's  Way  of 
Ihc    World,    Millamant    overshadows    Mira- 

25  bell,  the  sprightliest  male  figure  of  English 
comedy. 

But  those  two  ravishing  women,  so  copious 
and  so  choice  of  si)eech,  who  fence  with  men 


THE  COMIC  SPIRIT  93 

and  pass  their  guard,   are  heartless!     Is  it 
not   preferable   to   be   the   pretty   idiot,    the 
passive  beauty,  the  adorable  bundle  of  ca- 
prices, very  feminine,  very  sympathetic,  of 
romantic     and     sentimental     fiction?       Our     5 
women  are  taught  to  think  so.     The  Agnes 
of  the  Ecole  des  Femmes  should  be  a  lesson 
for  men.     The  heroines  of  comedy  are  like 
women  of  the  world,  not  necessarily  heartless 
from  being  clear-sighted;    they  seem  so  to    n} 
the  sentimentally  reared,  only  for  the  reason 
that  they  use  their  wits,  and  are  not  wan- 
dering vessels  crying  for  a  captain  or  a  pilol. 
Comedy  is  an  exhibition  of  their  battle  with 
men,  and  that  of  men  with  them;    and  as    i5 
the   two,    however   divergent,    both  look   on 
one  object,  namely,  life,  the  gradual  similar- 
ity of  their  impressions  must  bring  them  to 
some    resemblance.     The    comic    poet    dan-s 
to  show  us  men  and  women  coming  to  this    a> 
mutual  likeness;    he  is  for  saying  that  when 
they  draw  together  in  social  life  their  minds 
grow  liker;    just  as  the  philosopher  discerns 
the  similarity  of  boy  and  girl,  until  the  girl 
is  marched  away  to  the  nursery.     Philosopher   25 
and  comic  poet  are  of  a  cousinship  in  the 
eye  they  cast  on  life;    and  they  are  equally 
unpopular    with    our    wilful    English    of    the 


94         THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

hazy  region  and  the  ideal  that  is  not  to  be 
disturbed. 

Thus,  for  want  of  instruction  in  the  comic 
idea,  we  lose  a  large  audience  among  our  cul- 

5  tivated  middle  class  that  we  should  expect 
to  support  comedy.  The  sentimentalist  is 
as  averse  as  the  Puritan  and  as  the  Bac- 
chanalian. 

Our  traditions  are  unfortunate.     The  pub- 

10  lie  taste  is  with  the  idle  laughers,  and  still  in- 
clines to  follow  them.  It  may  be  shown  by 
an  analysis  of  Wycherley's  Plain  Dealer,  a 
coarse  prose  adaption  of  the  Misanthrope, 
stuffed  with  lumps  of  realism  in  a  vulgarized 

15  theme  to  hit  the  mark  of  English  appetite, 
that  we  have  in  it  the  key-note  of  the  com- 
edy of  our  stage.  It  is  Moliere  travestied, 
with  the  hoof  to  his  foot,  and  hair  on  the 
pointed  tip  of  his  ear.     And  how  difficult  it 

20  is  for  writers  to  disentangle  themselves  from 
bad  traditions  is  noticeable  when  we  find 
Goldsmith,  who  had  grave  command  of  the 
comic  in  narrative,  producing  an  elegant 
farce  for  a  comedy;   and  Fielding,  who  was  a 

25  master  of  the  comic  both  in  narrative  and  in 
dialogue,  not  even  approaching  to  the  pre- 
sentable in  farce. 

These  bad  traditions  of  comedy  affect  us. 


THE  COMIC  SPIRIT  95 

not  only  on  the  stage,  but  in  our  literature, 
and  may  be  tracked  into  our  social  life. 
They  are  the  ground  of  the  heavy  moralizings 
by  which  we  are  outwearied,  about  life  as  a 
comedy,  and  comed\'  as  a  jade,  when  pop-  5 
ular  writers,  conscious  of  fatigue  in  creative- 
ness,  desire  to  be  cogent  in  a  modish  cyni- 
cism; perversions  of  the  idea  of  life,  and  of 
the  proper  esteem  for  the  society  we  have 
wrested  from  brutishness.  and  would  carry  lo 
liigher.  Stock  images  of  this  description  are 
accepted  by  the  timid  and  the  sensitive,  as 
well  as  by  the  saturnine,  quite  seriously;  for 
not  many  look  abroad  with  their  own  eyes 
— fewer  still  have  the  habit  of  thinking  for  15 
themselves.  Life,  we  know  too  well,  is  not  a 
comedy,  but  something  strangely  mixed; 
nor  is  comedy  a  vile  mask.  The  corrupted 
importation  from  France  was  noxious,  a  noble 
entertainment  spoilt  to  suit  the  wretched  20 
taste  of  a  villainous  age;  and  the  later  imita- 
tions of  it,  partly  drained  of  its  poison  and 
made  decorous,  became  tiresome,  notwith- 
standing their  fun,  in  the  perpetual  recurring 
of  the  same  situations,  owing  to  the  absence  23 
of  original  study  and  vigor  of  conception. 
Scene  5,  Act  2,  of  the  Misanthrope,  owing,  no 
doubt,  to  the  fact  of  our  not  producing  matter 


96          THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

for  original  study,  is  repeated  in  succession 
by  Wycherley,  Congreve,  and  Sheridan,  and, 
as  it  is  at  second  hand,  we  have  it  done  cjTii- 
cally — or  such  is  the  tone — in  the  manner  of 

5  'below  stairs.'  Comedy  thus  treated  may  be 
accepted  as  a  version  of  the  ordinary  worldly' 
understanding  of  our  social  life;  at  least,  in 
accord  with  the  current  dicta  concerning  it. 
The  epigrams  can  be  made;    but  it  is  unin- 

10  structive,  rather  tending  to  do  disservice. 
Comedy  justly  treated,  as  you  find  it  in 
Moliere,  whom  we  so  clownishly  mishandled 
— the  comedy  of  Moliere  throws  no  infamous 
reflection  upon  life.     It  is  deeply  conceived, 

15  in  the  first  place,  and  therefore  it  cannot  be 
impure.  Meditate  on  that  statement.  Never 
did  man  wield  so  shrieking  a  scourge  upon 
vice;  but  his  consummate  self-mastery  is  not 
shaken  while  administering  it.    Tartuffe  and 

20  Harpagon,  in  fact,  are  made  each  to  whip 
himself  and  his  class — the  false  pietists,  and 
the  insanely  covetous.  Moliere  has  only  set 
them  in  motion.  He  strips  Folly  to  the  skin, 
displays  the  imposture  of  the  creature,  and  is 

25  content  to  offer  her  better  clothing,  with  the 
lesson  Chrysale  reads  to  Philaminte  and 
Belise.  He  conceives  purely,  and  he  writes 
purely,   in   the  simplest  language,   the  sim- 


THE  CO^nC  SPIRIT  97 

plest  of  French  verse.  The  source  of  his 
wit  is  clear  reason;  it  is  a  fountain  of  that 
soil,  and  it  springs  to  vindicate  reason,  com- 
mon sense.  Tightness,  and  justice — for  no  vain 
purpose  ever.  The  wit  is  of  such  pervading  5 
spirit  that  it  inspires  a  pun  with  meaning  and 
interest.  His  moral  does  not  hang  like  a  tail, 
or  preach  from  one  character  incessantly 
cocking  an  eye  at  the  audience,  as  in  recent 
realistic  French  plays,  but  is  in  the  heart  of  lo 
his  work,  throbbing  with  every  pulsation  of 
an  organic  structure.  If  life  is  likened  to  the 
comedy  of  Moliere,  there  is  no  scandal  in  the 
comparison. 

Congreve's  Way  of  the  World  is  an  excep-   15 
tion  to  our  other  comedies,  liis  own  among 
them,  by  virtue  of  the  remarkable  brilliancy 
of  the  writing,  and  the  figure  of  Millamant. 
The  comedy  has  no  idea  in  it,  beyond  the 
stale  one  that  so  the  world  goes;  and  it  con-   20 
eludes  with  the  jaded  discovery  of  a  docu- 
ment at  a  convenient  season  for  the  descent 
of  the  curtain.     A  plot  was  an  afterthought 
with  Congreve.     By  the  help  of  a  wooden 
villain    (Maskwell),   marked   gallows   to   the   25 
flattest  eye,  he  gets  a  sort  of  plot  in    The 
Double-Dealer.     His  Way  of  the  World  might 
be  called  'The  Conquest  of  a  Town  Coquette'; 


98         THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

and  Millamant  is  a  perfect  portrait  of  a 
coquette,  both  in  her  resistance  to  Mira- 
bell  and  the  manner  of  her  surrender,  and 
also  in  her  tongue.  The  wit  here  is  not  so 
5  salient  as  in  certani  passages  of  Love  for  Love, 
where  Valentine  feigns  madness,  or  retorts  on 
his  father,  or  Mrs.  Frail  rejoices  in  the  harm- 
lessness  of  wounds  to  a  woman's  virtue,  if 
she  keeps  them  'from  air.'     In  The  Way  of 

10  the  World,  it  appears  less  prepared  in  the 
smartness,  and  is  more  diffused  in  the  more 
characteristic  style  of  the  speakers.  Here, 
however,  as  elsewhere,  his  famous  wit  is  like 
a  bully-fencer,  not  ashamed  to  lay  traps  for 

15  its  exhibition,  transparently  petulant  for  the 
train  between  certain  ordinary  words  and 
the  powder-magazine  of  the  improprieties  to 
be  fired.  Contrast  the  wit  of  Congreve  with 
Moliere's.    That  of  the  first  is  a  Toledo  blade, 

20  sharp,  and  wonderfully  supple  for  steel;  cast 
for  dueling,  restless  in  the  scabbard,  being  so 
pretty  when  out  of  it.  To  shine,  it  must 
have  an  adversary.  Moliere's  wit  is  like  a 
running  brook,  with  innumerable  fresh  lights 

25  on  it  at  every  turn  of  the  wood  through  which 
its  business  is  to  find  a  way.  It  does  not  run 
in  search  of  obstructions,  to  be  noisy  over 
them;     but    when    dead    leaves    and    viler 


THE  COMIC  SPIRIT  99 

substances  are  heaped  along  the  course,  its 
natural  song  is  heightened.  Without  effort, 
and  with  no  dazzling  flashes  of  achievement, 
it  is  full  of  healing,  the  wit  of  good  breeding, 
the  wit  of  wisdom.  5 

'Genuine  humor  and  true  wit,'  says  Lau- 
dor,  'require  a  sound  and  capacious  mind, 
which  is  always  a  grave  one.  .  .  .  Rabelais 
and  La  Fontaine  are  recorded  by  their  coun- 
trymen to  have  been  reveurs.  Few  men  have  lO 
been  graver  than  Pascal;  few  have  been  wit- 
tier.' To  apply  the  citation  of  so  great  a  brain 
as  Pascal's  to  our  countryman  would  be  vm- 
fair.  Congreve  had  a  certain  soundness  of 
mind;  of  capacity,  in  the  sense  intended  by  15 
Landor,  he  had  little.  Judging  him  by  his 
wit,  he  performed  some  happy  thrusts;  and, 
taking  it  for  genuine,  it  is  a  surface  wit, 
neither  rising  from  a  depth  nor  flowing  from 
a  spring:  20 

On  voit  qu'il  se  travaille  a  dire  de  bons  mots. 

He  drives  the  poor  hack- word,  'fool,'  as 
cruelly  to  the  market  for  wit  as  any  of  his 
competitors.  Here  is  an  example,  that  has 
been  held  up  for  eulogy:  25 

wiTwouD.    He  has  brought  me  a  letter  from  the 

fool  my  brother.  .  .  . 
MUiABELL.     A  fool,  and  your  brother,  Witwoud ! 


100        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

MTTTWOUD.  Ay,  ay,  my  half-brother.  My  half- 
brother  he  is;   no  nearer,  upon  honor. 

MiRABKLL.  Then  'tis  possible  he  may  be  but  half 
a  fool. 

t5  — By  evident  preparation.     This  is  a  sort  of 

wit  one  remembers  to  have  heard  at  school, 

of  a  brilliant  outsider;    perhaps  to  have  been 

guilty  of  oneself  a  trifle  later.     It  was,  no 

doubt,  a  blaze  of  intellectual  fireworks  to  the  y 

io  biimpkin  squire  who  came  to  London  to  go 
to  the  theatre  and  learn  manners. 

Where  Congreve  excels  all  his  English 
rivals  is  in  his  literary  force,  and  a  succinct- 
ness of  style  peculiar  to  liim.    He  had  correct 

=15  judgment,  a  correct  ear,  readiness  of  illustra- 
tion within  a  narrow  range — in  snap-shots  of 
the  obvious  at  the  obvious — and  copious 
language.  He  hits  the  mean  of  a  fine  style 
and  a  natural  in  dialogue.     He  is  at  once 

2ft  precise  and  voluble.  If  you  have  ever  thought 
upon  style,  you  will  acknowledge  it  to  be  a 
signal  accomplishment.  In  this  he  is  a  classic, 
and  is  worthy  of  treading  a  measure  with 
Moliere.     Tlie  Way  of  the  World  may  be  read 

25  out  currently  at  a  first  glance,  so  sure  are  the 
accents  of  the  emphatic  meaning  to  strike 
the  eye,  perforce  of  the  crispness  and  cunning 
polish  of  the  sentences.  You  have  not  to 
look  over  them  before  you  confide  yourself 


THE  COMIC  SPIRIT  101 

to  him;  lie  will  carry  you  safe.  Sheridan 
imitated,  but  was  far  from  surpassing,  him. 
The  flow  of  boudoir  billingsgate  in  Lady  Wish- 
fort  is  unmatched  for  the  vigor  and  pointed- 
ness  of  the  tongue.  It  spins  along  with  a  5 
final  ring,  like  the  voice  of  Nature  in  a  fury, 
and  is,  indeed,  racy  eloquence  of  the  elevated 
fishwife. 

Millamant  is  an  admirable,  almost  a  lov- 
able, heroine.     It  is  a  piece  of  genius  in  a    10 
writer  to  make  a  woman's  manner  of  speech 
portray  her.     You  feel  sensible  of  her  pres- 
ence  in    every   line   of   her   speaking.      The 
stipulations  with  her  lover  in  view  of  mar- 
riage, her  fine  lady's  delicacy,  and  fine  lady's    15 
easy  evasions  of  indelicacy,  coquettish  airs, 
and    playing    with    irresolution,    which    in    a 
common  maid  would  be  bashfulness,  until  she 
submits  to  'dwindle  into  a  wife,'  as  she  says, 
form  a  picture  that  lives  in  the  frame,  and  is    20 
in  harmony  with  Mirabcll's  description  of  her: 

Here  she  comes,  i'  faith,  full  s.iil,  with  her  fan 
spread  and  her  streamers  out,  and  a  shoal  of  fool.-> 
for  tenders. 

And,  after  an  interview:  25 

Think  of  you  ?  To  think  of  a  whirlwind,  though 
'twere  in  a  whirlwind,  were  a  case  of  more  steady 
contemplation;  a  very  tranquillity  of  mind  and 
mansion. 


102       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

There  is  a  picturesqueness,  as  of  Millamant 
and  no  other,  in  her  voice,  when  she  is  en- 
couraged to  take  Mirabell  by  Mrs.  Fainall, 
vv'ho  is  'sure'  she  has  *a  mind  to  him': 

5    MILLAMANT.     Are  you  ?     I  think  I  have — and  the 
horrid  man  looks  as  if  he  thought  so  too. — 

One  hears  the  tones,  and  sees  the  sketch  and 
color  of  the  whole  scene,  in  reading  it. 

Celimene  is  behind  Millamant  in  vividness. 

10  An  air  of  bewitching  whimsicality  hovers 
over  the  graces  of  this  comic  heroine,  like 
the  lively  conversational  play  of  a  beautiful 
mouth.  But  in  wit  she  is  no  rival  of  Celimene. 
"Wliat  she  utters  adds  to  her  personal  witchery, 

15  and  is  not  further  memorable.  She  is  a  flash- 
ing portrait,  and  a  type  of  the  superior  ladies 
who  do  not  think,  not  of  those  who  do.  In 
representing  a  class,  therefore,  it  is  a  lower 
class,  in  the  proportion  that  one  of  Gains- 

20  borough's  full-length  aristocratic  women  is 
below  the  permanent  impressiveness  of  a  fair 
Venetian  head. 

Millamant,  side  by  side  with  Celimene,  is 
an  example  of  how  far  the  realistic  painting 

25  of  a  character  can  be  carried  to  win  our  favor, 
and  of  where  it  falls  short.  Celimene  is  a 
woman's  mind  in  movement,  armed  with  an 


THE  COI^nC   SPIRIT  103 

ungovernable  wt;  with  perspicacious,  clear 
eyes  for  the  world,  and  a  very  distinct  knowl- 
edge that  she  belongs  to  the  world,  and  is 
most  at  home  in  it.  She  is  attracted  to 
Alceste  by  her  esteem  for  his  honesty;  she  5 
cannot  avoid  seeing  where  the  good  sense  of 
the  man  is  diseased. 

Rousseau,  in  his  letter  to  D'Alembert  on 
the  subject  of  the  Misanthrope,  discusses 
the  character  of  Alceste  as  though  Moliere  lo 
had  put  him  forth  for  an  absolute  example 
of  misanthropy;  whereas  Alceste  is  only  a 
misanthrope  of  the  circle  he  finds  himself 
placed  in — he  has  a  touching  faith  in  the 
virtue  residing  in  the  country,  and  a  critical  15 
love  of  sweet  simpleness.  Nor  is  he  the 
principal  person  of  the  comedy  to  which 
he  gives  a  name.  He  is  only  passively  comic. 
Celimene  is  the  active  spirit.  While  he  is 
denouncing  and  railing,  the  trial  is  imposed  20 
upon  her  to  make  the  best  of  him,  and  con- 
trol herself,  as  much  as  a  witty  woman,  ea- 
gerly courted,  can  do.  By  appreciating  him 
she  practically  confesses  her  faultiness,  and 
she  is  better  disposed  to  meet  him  half-way  25 
than  he  is  to  bend  an  inch;  only  she  is  'u7ic 
dme  de  vingt  ans,'  the  world  is  pleasant,  and, 
if  the  gilded  flies  of  the  Court  are  silly,  un- 


104       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

compromising  fanatics  have  their  ridiculous 
features  as  well.  Can  she  abandon  the  life 
they  make  agreeable  to  her,  for  a  man  who  will 
not  be  guided  by  the  common  sense  of  his 
5  class,  and  who  insists  on  plunging  into  one 
extreme — equal  to  suicide  in  her  eyes — to 
avoid  another?  That  is  the  comic  question 
of  the  Misanthrope.  Why  will  he  not  con- 
tinue to  mix  with  the  world  smoothly,  ap- 

10  peased  by  the  flattery  of  her  secret  and  really 
sincere  preference  of  him,  and  taking  his 
revenge  in  satire  of  it,  as  she  does  from  her 
own  not  very  lofty  standard,  and  will  by  and 
by  do  from  his  more  exalted  one? 

15  Celimene  is  worldliness;  Alceste  is  un- 
worldliness.  It  does  not  quite  imply  un- 
selfishness; and  that  is  perceived  by  her 
shrewd  head.  Still,  he  is  a  very  uncommon 
figure  in   her  circle,   and   she   esteems   him, 

20  H'homTne  aux  ruhans  verts,'  who  'sometimes 
diverts,'  but  more  often  horribly  vexes  her — 
as  she  can  say  of  him  when  her  satirical  tongue 
is  on  the  run.  Unhappily  the  soul  of  truth 
in  him,  which  wins  her  esteem,  refuses  to  be 

25  tamed,  or  silent,  or  unsuspicious,  and  is  the 
perpetual  obstacle  to  their  good  accord.  He 
is  that  melancholy  person,  the  critic  of  every- 
body save  himself;    intensely  sensitive  to  the 


THE  CO^GC  SPIRIT  105 

faults  of  others,  wounded  by  them;  in  love 
v'.-ith  his  own  indubitable  honesty,  and  with 
his  ideal  of  the  simpler  form  of  life  befitting 
it — qualities  which  constitute  the  satirist. 
He  is  a  Jean  Jacques  of  the  Court.  His  pro-  5 
posal  to  Celimene,  when  he  pardons  her. 
that  she  should  follow  him  in  flying  human- 
kind, and  his  frenzy  of  detestation  of  her  at 
her  refusal,  are  thoroughly  in  the  mood  of 
Jean  Jacques.  He  is  an  impracticable  crea-  lo 
ture  of  a  priceless  virtue;  but  Celimene  may 
feel  that  to  fly  with  him  to  the  desert  (that 
is,  from  the  Court  to  the  country), 

Ou  d'etre  homme  d'honneur  on  alt  la  liberie, 

she  is  likely  to  find  herself  the  companion  of  a   15 
starving  satirist,  like  that  poor  princess  who 
ran  away  with  the  waiting-man,  and,  when 
both  were  hungry  in  the  forest,  was  ordered  to 
give  him  flesh.     She  is  a  fieffee  coquette,  re- 
joicing in  her  wit  and  her  attractions,  and    20 
distinguished  by  her  inclination  for  Alceste 
in  the  midst  of  her  many  other  lovers;    only 
she  finds  it  hard  to  cut  them  off — what  woman 
with  a  train  does  not.^ — and  when  the  ex- 
posure of  her  naughty  wit  has  laid  her  under   25 
their  rebuke,  she  will  do  the  utmost  she  can: 
she  will  give  her  hand  to  honesty,  but  she 


106        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

cannot  quite  abandon  worldliness.    She  would 
be  unwise  if  she  did. 

The  fable  is  thin.  Our  pungent  contrivers 
of  plots  would  see  no  indication  of  life  in  the 

5  outlines.  The  life  of  the  comedy  is  in  the 
idea.  As  with  the  singing  of  the  skylark  out 
of  sight,  you  must  love  the  bird  to  be  atten- 
tive to  the  song,  so  in  this  highest  flight  of 
the  comic  Muse,  you  must  love  pure  comedy 

10  warmly  to  understand  the  Misanthrope ;  you 
must  be  receptive  of  the  idea  of  comedy. 
And  to  love  comedj'  you  must  know  the  real 
world,  and  know  men  and  women  well  enough 
not  to  expect  too  much  of  them,  though  you 

15   may  still  hope  for  good. 

Menander  wrote  a  comedy  called  Miso- 
gynes,  said  to  have  been  the  most  celebrated 
of  his  works.  This  misogynist  is  a  married 
man,   according   to   the   fragment   surviving, 

20  and  is  a  hater  of  women  through  hatred  of 
his  wife.  He  generalizes  upon  them  from 
the  example  of  this  lamentable  adjunct  of 
his  fortunes,  and  seems  to  have  got  the  worst 
of  it  in  the  contest  with   her,  which    is  like 

25  the  issue  in  reality  in  the  polite  world.  He 
seems  also  to  have  deserved  it,  which  may 
be  as  true  to  the  copy.  But  we  are  unable 
to  say  whether  the  wife  was  a  good  voice  of 


THE  COMIC  SPIRIT  107 

her  sex;  or  how  far  Menander  in  this  in- 
stance raised  the  idea  of  woman  from  the 
mire  it  was  plunged  into  by  the  comic  poets, 
or  rather  satiric  dramatists,  of  the  middle 
period  of  Greek  comedy  preceding  him  and  5 
the  New  Comedy,  who  devoted  their  wit 
chiefly  to  the  abuse,  and,  for  a  diversity,  to 
the  eulogy  of  extra-mural  ladies  of  conspicuous 
fame.  Menander  idealized  them,  without 
purposely  elevating.  He  satirized  a  certain  lo 
Thais,  and  his  Thais  of  the  Eunuchus  of  Ter- 
ence is  neither  professionally  attractive  nor 
repulsive;  his  picture  of  the  two  Andrians, 
Chrysis  and  her  sister,  is  nowhere  to  be 
matched  for  tenderness.  But  the  condition  15 
of  honest  women  in  his  day  did  not  permit 
of  the  freedom  of  action  and  fencing  dialectic 
of  a  Celimene,  and  consequently  it  is  below 
our  mark  of  pure  comedy. 

Sainte-Beuve  conjures  up  the  ghost  of  20 
Menander  saying:  'For  the  love  of  me  love 
Terence.'  It  is  through  love  of  Terence  that 
moderns  are  able  to  love  Menander;  and 
what  is  preserved  of  Terence  has  not,  ap- 
parently, given  us  the  best  of  the  friend  of  25 
Epicurus.  Mto-oiJ/xecoi,  the  lover  taken  in 
horror,  and  UtpiKecponiv-n,  the  damsel  shorn 
of   her   locks,   have    a   promising   sound   for 


108       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

scenes  of  jealousy  and  a  too  masterful  dis- 
play of  lordly  authority,  leading  to  regrets 
of  the  kind  known  to  intemperate  men  who 
imagined  they  were  fighting  with  the  weaker, 

5  as  the  fragments  indicate. 

Of  the  six  comedies  of  Terence,  four  are 
derived  from  Menander;  two,  the  Ilecyra 
and  the  Phormio,  from  Apollodorus.  These 
two   are   inferior,   in   comic   action   and   the 

10  peculiar  sweetness  of  Menander,  to  the  An- 
dria,  the  Adelphi,  the  Ileanton  Timonimenos, 
and  the  Eunuchus;  but  Phormio  is  a  more 
dashing  and  amusing  convivial  parasite  than 
the    Gnatho    of    the     last-named    comedy. 

15  There  were  numerous  rivals  of  whom  we  know 
next  to  nothing  (except  by  the  quotations  of 
Athenaeus  and  Plutarch,  and  the  Greek 
grammarians  who  cited  them  to  support  a 
dictum)  in  this,  as  in  the  preceding  periods 

20  of  comedy  in  Athens;  for  Menander's  plays 
are  counted  by  many  scores,  and  they  were 
crowned  by  the  prize  only  eight  times.  The 
favorite  poet  with  critics,  in  Greece  as  ia 
Rome,  was  Menander;    and  if  some  of  his 

25  rivals  here  and  there  surpassed  him  in  comic 
force,  and  outstripped  him  in  competition 
by  an  appositeness  to  the  occasion  that  had 
previously   in    the   same   way   deprived    the 


THE  COMIC   SPIRIT  109 

genius  of  Aristophanes  of  its  due  reward  in 
Clouds  and  Birds,  his  position  as  chief  of  the 
comic  poets  of  his  age  was  unchallenged. 
Plutarch  very  unnecessarily  drags  Aris- 
tophanes into  a  comparison  with  him,  to  5 
the  confusion  of  the  older  poet.  Their  aims, 
the  matter  they  dealt  in,  and  the  times,  were 
quite  dissimilar.  But  it  is  no  wonder  that 
Plutarch,  writing  when  Athenian  beauty  of 
style  was  the  delight  of  his  patrons,  should  lo 
rank  Menander  at  the  highest.  In  what 
degree  of  faithfulness  Terence  copied  Me- 
nander— whether,  as  he  states  of  the  passage 
in  the  Adelphi  taken  from  Diphilus,  'verbum 
de  verbo'  in  the  lovelier  scenes  (the  description  15 
of  the  last  words  of  the  dying  Andrian,  and 
of  her  funeral,  for  instance) — remains  con- 
jectural. For  us,  Terence  shares  with  his 
master  the  praise  of  an  amenity  that  is  like 
Elysian  speech,  equable  and  ever  gracious;  20 
like  the  face  of  the  Andrian's  young  sister: 

Adeo  modesto,  adeo  venusto,  ut  nil  supra. 

The  celebrated    'flens  quam  familiariicr,^   of 
which   the   closest   rendering   grounds   hope- 
lessly on  harsh  prose,  to  express  the  sorrow-    25 
ful   confidingness   of   a   young   girl   who   has 
lost  her  sister  and   dearest  friend,  and  has 


110       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

but  her  lover  left  to  her — 'she  turned  and 
flung  herself  on  his  bosom,  weeping  as  though 
at  home  there' — this  our  instinct  tells  us 
must  be  Greek,  though  hardly  finer  in  Greek. 
5  Certain  lines  of  Terence,  compared  with  the 
original  fragments,  show  that  he  embellished 
them;  but  his  taste  was  too  exquisite  for 
him  to  do  other  than  devote  his  genius  to 
the  honest  translation  of  such  pieces  as  the 

10  above.  Menander,  then;  with  him,  through 
the  aflBnity  of  sympathy,  Terence;  and 
Shakespeare  and  Moliere,  have  this  beautiful 
translucency  of  language.  And  the  study 
of   the   comic  poets  might  be  recommended 

15  if  for  that  only. 

A  singular  ill  fate  befell  the  writings  of 
Menander.  What  we  have  of  him  in  Terence 
was  chosen  probably  to  please  the  cultivated 
Romans,  and  is  a  romantic  play  with  a  comic 

20  intrigue,  obtained  in  two  instances,  the  Aji- 
dria  and  the  Eunuchus,  by  rolling  a  couple 
of  his  originals  into  one.  The  titles  of  certain 
of  the  lost  plays  indicate  the  comic  illumining 
character;    a  Self-Pitier,  a  Self-Chastiser,  an 

25  Ill-tempered  Man,  a  SuperstitioiLS,  an  Incredu- 
lous, etc.,  point  to  suggestive  domestic  themes. 
Terence  forwarded  manuscript  translations 
from  Greece  that  suffered  shipwreck;  he,  who 


THE  COMIC  SPIRIT  111 

could  have  restored  the  treasure,  died  on  the 
way  home.  The  zealots  of  Byzantium  com- 
pleted the  work  of  destruction.  So  we  have 
the  four  comedies  of  Terence,  numbering  sbc 
of  Menander,  with  a  few  sketches  of  plots  5 
(one  of  them,  the  Thesauriis,  introduces  a 
miser,  whom  we  should  have  liked  to  con- 
trast with  Harpagon),  and  a  multitude  of 
small  fragments  of  a  sententious  cast,  fitted 
for  quotation.  Enough  remains  to  make  his  lo 
greatness  felt. 

Without  undervaluing  other  writers  of 
comedy,  I  think  it  may  be  said  that  Menander 
and  Mohere  stand  alone  specially  as  comic 
poets  of  the  feelings  and  the  idea.  In  each  )5 
of  them  there  is  a  conception  of  the  comic 
that  refines  even  to  pain,  as  in  the  Menedemus 
of  the  Heauton  Timorumenos,  and  in  the  Mis- 
anthrope. Menander  and  Moliere  have 
given  the  principal  types  to  comedy  hitherto.  20 
The  Micio  and  Demea  of  the  Adelphi,  with 
their  opposing  views  of  the  proper  manage- 
ment of  youth,  are  still  ahve;  the  Sganarelles 
and  Arnolphes  of  the  Ecole  des  Maris  and  the 
Ecole  des  Fertimes  are  not  all  buried.  Tartufi'e  25 
is  the  father  of  the  hypocrites;  Orgon  of  the 
dupes;  Thraso  of  the  braggadocios;  Alceste 
of  the  'Manlys';    Davus  and  Syrus  of  the 


112        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

intriguing  valets,  the  Scapins  and  Figaros. 
Ladies  that  soar  in  the  realms  of  rose-pink, 
whose  language  wears  the  nodding  plumes  of 
intellectual  conceit,  are  traceable  to  Phila- 
5  minte  and  Belise  of  the  Femmes  Savantes: 
and  the  mordant,  witty  women  have  the 
tongue  of  Celimene.  The  reason  is  that 
these  two  poets  idealized  upon  life;  the  foun- 
dation of  their  types  is  real  and  in  the  quick, 

10  but  they  painted  with  spiritual  strength, 
which  is  the  solid  in  art. 

The  idealistic  conception  of  comedy  gives 
breadth  and  opportunities  of  daring  to  comic 
genius,  and  helps  to  solve  the  difficulties  it 

15  creates.  How,  for  example,  shall  an  audience 
be  assured  that  an  evident  and  monstrous 
dupe  is  actually  deceived  without  being  an 
absolute  fool  ?  In  Le  Tartuffe  the  note  of 
high  comedy  strikes  when  Orgon  on  his  re- 

20  turn  home  hears  of  his  idol's  excellent  appetite. 
'Ze  pauvre  homme  /'  he  exclaims.  He  is  told 
that  the  wife  of  his  bosom  has  been  unwell. 
'Et  Tartuffc  ?'  he  asks,  impatient  to  hear 
him  spoken  of,  his  mind  suffused  with  the 

25  thought  of  Tartuffe,  crazy  with  tenderness; 
and  again  he  croons:  'Le  pauvre  homme  1' 
It  is  the  mother's  cry  of  pitying  delight  at 
a  nurse's  recital  of  the  feats  in  young  animal 


THE  COMIC  SPIRIT  113 

gluttony  of  her  cherished  infant.  After  this 
master-stroke  of  the  comic,  you  not  only  put 
faith  in  Orgon's  roseate  prepossession,  you 
share  it  with  him  by  comic  sympathy,  and 
can  listen  with  no  more  than  a  tremble  of  5 
the  laughing-muscles  to  the  instance  he  gives 
of  the  sublime  humanity  of  Tartuffe: 

Un  rien  presque  suffit  pour  le  scandaliser, 
Jusque-la  qu'il  se  vint,  I'aiitre  jour,  accuser 
D'avoir  pris  une  puce  en  faisant  sa  pri^re,  iq 

Et  de  I'avoir  tuee  avec  trop  de  colore. 

'And  to  have  killed  it  too  WTatlifully ' !  Trans- 
lating Moliere  is  like  humming  an  air  one 
has  heard  performed  by  an  accomplished 
violinist  of  the  pure  tones  without  flourish.      15 

Orgon  awakening  to  find  another  dupe  in 
Madame  Pernelle,  incredulous  of  the  revela- 
tions which  have  at  last  opened  his  own  be- 
sotted eyes,  is  a  scene  of  the  double  comic, 
vivified  by  the  spell  previously  cast  on  the  20 
mind.  There  we  feel  the  power  of  the  poet's 
creation;  and,  in  the  sharp  light  of  that 
sudden  turn,  the  humanity  is  livelier  tlian 
any  realistic  work  can  make  it. 

Italian   comedy   gives   many    hints    for   a   25 
Tartuffe;    but  they  may  be  found  in  Boc- 
caccio, as  well  as  in  Machiavelli's  Mandragnla.  < 


114       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

The  Frate  Timoteo  of  this  piece  is  only  a 
very  oily  friar,  comphantly  assisting  an  in- 
trigue with  ecclesiastical  sophisms  (to  use 
the  mildest  word)  for  payment.  Frate  Ti- 
5   moteo  has  a  fine  Italian  priestly  pose: 

DONNA.     Credete  voi,  che   '1   Turco   passi    questo 

anno  in  Italia.'' 
FR.^.TE  TiMOTEO.     Se  voi  non  fate  orazione,  si. 

Priestly    arrogance    and    unctuousness,    and 

10  trickeries  and  casuistries,  cannot  be  painted 
without  our  discovering  a  likeness  in  the 
long  Italian  gallery.  Goldoni  sketched  the 
Venetian  manners  of  the  decadence  of  the 
Republic  with  a  French  pencil,  and  was  an 

15   Italian  scribe  in  style. 

The  Spanish  stage  is  richer  in  such  com- 
edies as  that  which  furnished  the  idea  of  the 
Metiteur  to  Corneille.  But  you  must  force 
j'ourself  to  believe  that  this  liar  is  not  forcing 

20  liis  vein  when  he  piles  lie  upon  He.  There  is 
no  preceding  touch  to  win  the  mind  to  credu- 
lity. Spanish  comedy  is  generally  in  sharp 
outline,  as  of  skeletons;  in  quick  movement, 
as  of  marionettes.     The   comedy    might    be 

25  performed  by  a  troop  of  the  corps  de  ballet : 
and  in  the  recollection  of  the  reading  it  re- 
solves to  an  animated  shuffle  of  feet.     It  is. 


THE  COIVIIC  SPIRIT  115 

in  fact,  something  other  than  the  true  idea 
of  comedy.  Where  the  sexes  are  separated, 
men  and  women  grow,  as  the  Portuguese 
call  it,  ajaimados  of  one  another,  famine- 
stricken;  and  all  the  tragic  elements  are  on  5 
the  stage.  Don  Juan  is  a  comic  character 
that  sends  souls  flying;  nor  does  the  humor 
of  the  breaking  of  a  dozen  women's  hearts 
conciliate  the  comic  Muse  with  the  drawing 
of  blood.  10 

German  attempts  at  corned}'  remind  one 
vividly  of  Heine's  image  of  his  country  in 
the  dancing  of  Atta  Troll.  Lessing  tried  his 
hand  at  it,  with  a  sobering  effect  upon  readers. 
The  intention  to  produce  the  reverse  effect  15 
is  just  visible,  and  therein,  like  the  portly 
graces  of  the  poor  old  Pyrenean  bear  poising 
and  twirling  on  his  right  hind-leg  and  his  left, 
consists  the  fun.  Jean  Paul  Richter  gives  the 
best  edition  of  the  German  comic  in  the  con-  20 
trast  of  Siebenkas  with  his  Lenette.  A  light  of 
the  comic  is  in  Goethe — enough  to  complete 
the  splendid  figure  of  the  man,  but  no  more. 

The  German  literary  laugh,  like  the  timed 
awakenings  of  their  Barbarossa  in  the  hoi-   25 
lows  of  the  Untersberg,   is  infrequent,   and 
rather  monstrous — never  a  laugh  of  men  and 
women  in  concert.     It  comes  of  unrefined. 


IIG       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

abstract  fancy,  grotesque  or  grim,  or  gross, 
like  the  peculiar  humors  of  their  little  earth- 
men.  Spiritual  laughter  they  have  not  yet 
attained  to;  sentimentalism  waylays  them 
5  in  the  flight.  Here  and  there  a  volkslied  or 
mdrchen  shows  a  national  aptitude  for  stout 
animal  laughter,  and  we  see  that  the  literature 
is  built  on  it,  which  is  hopeful  so  far;  but  to 
enjoy  it,  to  enter  into  the  philosophy  of  the 

10  broad  grin  that  seems  to  hesitate  between 
the  skull  and  the  embryo,  and  reaches  its 
perfection  in  breadth  from  the  pulling  of 
two  square  fingers  at  the  corners  of  the  mouth, 
one  must  have  aid  of  'the  good  Rhine  wine,' 

15  and  be  of  German  blood  unmixed  besides. 
This  treble-Dutch  lumbersomeness  of  the 
Comic  Spirit  is  of  itself  exclusive  of  the  idea 
of  comedy,  and  the  poor  voice  allowed  to 
women    in    German    domestic    life    will    ac- 

20  count  for  the  absence  of  comic  dialogues 
reflecting  upon  life  in  that  land.  I  shall 
speak  of  it  again  in  the  second  section  of 
this  lecture. 

Eastward  you  have  total  silence  of  comedy 

26  among  a  people  intensely  susceptible  to 
laughter,  as  the  Arabian  Nights  will  testify. 
Where  the  veil  is  over  women's  faces,  you 
cannot  have  society,  without  which  the  senses 


118       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

prudery  of  the  veil  as  the  civihzing  medium 
of  his  race. 

There  has  been  fun  in  Bagdad.  But  there 
never  will  be  civilization  where  comedy  is 
5  not  possible;  and  that  comes  of  some  degree 
of  social  equality  of  the  sexes.  I  am  not 
quoting  the  Arab  to  exhort  and  disturb  the 
somnolent  East;  rather  for  cultivated  women 
to  recognize  that  the  comic  Muse  is  one  of 

10  their  best  friends.  They  are  blind  to  their 
interests  in  swelling  the  ranks  of  the  senti- 
mentalists. Let  them  look  with  their  clearest 
vision  abroad  and  at  home.  They  will  see 
that,    where    they    have    no    social    freedom, 

15  comedy  is  absent;  where  they  are  household 
drudges,  the  form  of  comedy  is  primitive; 
where  they  are  tolerably  independent,  but 
uncultivated,  exciting  melodrama  takes  its 
place,    and    a   sentimental    version   of   them. 

20  Yet  the  comic  will  out,  as  they  would  know 
if  they  listened  to  some  of  the  private  con- 
versations of  men  whose  minds  are  undirected 
by  the  comic  Muse;  as  the  sentimental  man, 
to   his   astonishment,    would    know    likewise, 

2>  if  he  in  similar  fashion  could  receive  a  lesson. 
But  where  women  are  on  the  road  to  an  equal 
footing  with  men,  in  attainments  and  in  lib- 
erty—in   what    they    have    won    for    them- 


THE  COMIC  SPIRIT  117 

are  barbarous  and  the  Comic  Spirit  is  driven 
to  the  gutters  of  grossness  to  slake  its  thirst. 
Arabs  in  this  respect  are  worse  than  ItaHans 
— much  worse  than  Germans, — just  in  the 
degree  that  their  system  of  treating  women  5 
is  worse. 

M.  Saint-Marc  Girardin,  the  excellent 
French  essayist  and  master  of  critical  style, 
tells  of  a  conversation  he  had  once  with  an 
Arab  gentleman  on  the  topic  of  the  difiFerent  lo 
management  of  these  difficult  creatures  in 
Orient  and  in  Occident;  and  the  Arab  spoke 
in  praise  of  many  good  results  of  the  greater 
freedom  enjoyed  by  Western  ladies,  and  the 
charm  of  conversing  with  them.  He  was  15 
questioned  why  his  countrymen  took  no 
measures  to  grant  them  something  of  that 
kind  of  liberty.  He  jumped  out  of  his  in- 
dividuality in  a  twinkling,  and  entered  into 
the  sentiments  of  his  race,  replying,  from  20 
the  pinnacle  of  a  splendid  conceit,  with  af- 
fected humility  of  manner:  'You  can  look 
on  them  without  perturbation — hut  we!  .  .  .' 
And,  after  tliis  profoundly  comic  interjection, 
he  added,  in  deep  tones:  'The  very  face  of  a  25 
woman ! '  Our  representative  of  temperate 
notions  demurely  consented  that  the  Arab's 
pride  of  inflammability  should  insist  on  the 


THE  COMIC  SPIRIT  119 

selves,  and  what  has  been  granted  them  by 
a  fair  civilization — there,  and  only  waiting 
to  be  transplanted  from  life  to  the  stage, 
or  the  novel,  or  the  poem,  pure  comedy 
flourishes,  and  is,  as  it  would  help  them  to  5 
be,  the  sweetest  of  diversions,  the  wisest  of 
delightful  companions. 

Now,  to  look  about  us  in  the  present  time, 
I  think  it  will  be  acknowledged  that,  in  neg- 
lecting the  cultivation  of  the  comic  idea,  we    lo 
are  losing  the  aid  of  a  powerful  auxiliar.    You 
see  Folly  perpetually  sliding  into  new  shapes 
in  a  society  possessed  of  wealth  and  leisure, 
with   many   whims,    many    strange   ailments 
and    strange    doctors.      Plenty    of    common    15 
sense  is  in  the  world  to  thrust  her  back  when 
she  pretends  to  empire.     But  the  first-born 
of  common  sense,  the  vigilant  Comic,  which 
is  the  genius  of  thoughtful  laughter,   which 
would  readily  extinguish  her  at  the  outset,   20 
is  not  serving  as  a  public  advocate. 

You  will  have  noticed  the  disposition  of 
common  sense,  under  pressure  of  some  per- 
tinacious piece  of  light-headedness,  to  grow 
impatient  and  angry.  That  is  a  sign  of  the  25 
absence,  or  at  least  of  the  dormancy,  of  the 
comic  idea.     For  Folly  is  the  natural  prey 


120       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

^  of  the  Comic,  known  to  it  in  all  her  trans- 
formations, in  every  disguise;  and  it  is  with 
the  springing  delight  of  hawk  over  heron, 
hound  after  fox,  that  it  gives  her  chase,  never 
5  fretting,  never  tiring,  sure  of  having  her,  al- 
lowing her  no  rest. 

Contempt  is  a  sentiment  that  cannot  be 
entertained  by  comic  intelligence.  What  is 
it  but  an  excuse  to  be  idly-minded,  or  per- 

10  sonally  lofty,  or  comfortably  narrow,  not 
perfectly  humane?  If  we  do  not  feign  when 
we  say  that  we  despise  Folly,  we  shut  the 
brain.  There  is  a  disdainful  attitude  in  the 
presence  of  Folly,  partaking  of  the  foolishness 

15  to  comic  perception;  and  anger  is  not  much 
less  foolish  than  disdain.  The  struggle  we 
have  to  conduct  is  essence  against  essence. 
Let  no  one  doubt  of  the  sequel  when  this 
emanation  of  what  is  firmest  in  us  is  launched 

20  to  strike  down  the  daughter  of  Unreason  and 
Sentimentalism — such  being  Folly's  parent- 
age, when  it  is  respectable. 

Our  modern  system  of  combating  her  is 
too  long  defensive,  and  carried  on  too  plod- 

25  dingly  with  concrete  engines  of  war  in  the 
attack.  She  has  time  to  get  behind  entrench- 
ments. She  is  ready  to  stand  a  siege,  before 
the  heavily-armed  man  of  science   and    the 


THE  COMIC  SPIRIT  121 

writer  of  the  leading  article  or  elaborate  essay 
have  primed  their  big  guns.  It  should  be 
remembered  that  she  has  charms  for  the 
multitude;  and  an  English  multitude,  seeing 
her  make  a  gallant  fight  of  it,  will  be  half  in  5 
love  with  her,  certainly  willing  to  lend  her 
a  cheer.  Benevolent  subscriptions  assist  h.er 
to  hire  her  own  man  of  science,  her  own  organ 
in  the  press.  If  ultimately  she  is  cast  out 
and  overthrown,  she  can  stretch  a  finger  at  lo 
gaps  in  our  ranks.  She  can  say  that  she  com- 
manded an  army,  and  seduced  men,  whom 
we  thought  sober  men  and  safe,  to  act  as 
lier  lieutenants.  We  learn  rather  gloomily, 
after  she  has  flashed  her  lantern,  that  we  15 
liave  in  our  midst  able  men,  and  men  with 
minds,  for  whom  there  is  no  pole-star  in  in- 
tellectual navigation.  Comedy,  or  the  comic 
element,  is  the  specific  for  the  poison  of  de- 
lusion while  Folly  is  passing  from  the  state  20 
of  vapor  to  substantial  form. 

O  for  a  breath  of  Aristophanes,  Rabelais, 
Voltaire,  Cervantes,  Fielding,  Moliere  !  Those 
are  spirits  that,  if  you  know  them  well,  will 
come  when  you  do  call.  You  will  find  the  25 
very  invocation  of  them  act  on  you  like  a 
renovating  air — the  south-west  coming  off 
the  sea,  or  a  cry  in  the  Alps. 


122       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

No  one  would  presume  to  say  that  we  are 
deficient  in  jokers.  They  abound,  and  the 
organization  directing  their  machinery  to 
shoot  them  in  the  wake  of  the  leading  article 
5  and  the  popular  sentiment  is  good.  But  the 
comic  differs  from  them  in  addressing  the 
wits  for  laughter;  and  the  sluggish  wits  want 
some  training  to  respond  to  it,  whether  in 
public  life  or  private,  and  particularly  when 

10  the  feelings  are  excited.  The  sense  of  the 
comic  is  much  blunted  by  habits  of  punning 
and  of  using  humoristic  phrase,  the  trick 
of  employing  Jolmsonian  polysyllables  to 
treat  of  the  infinitely  little.     And  it  really 

15  maj'^  be  humorous,  of  a  kind;  yet  it  will  miss 
the  point  by  going  too  much  round  about 
it. 

A  certain  French  Due  Pasquier  died,  some 
years  back,  at  a  very  advanced  age.    He  had 

20  been  the  venerable  Due  Pasquier,  in  his  later 
years,  up  to  the  period  of  his  death.  There 
was  a  report  of  Due  Pasquier  that  he  was  a 
man  of  profound  egoism.  Hence  an  argu- 
ment arose,  and  was  warmly  sustained,  upon 

25  the  excessive  selfishness  of  those  who,  in  a 
world  of  troubles,  and  calls  to  action,  and 
innumerable  duties,  husband  their  strength 
for  the  sake  of  living  on.     Can  it  be  possible. 


THE   COMIC  SPIRIT  123 

the  argument  ran,  for  a  truly  generous  heart 
to  continue  beating  up  to  the  age  of  a  hun- 
dred ?  Due  Pasquier  was  not  without  his 
defenders,  who  Hkened  him  to  the  oak  of 
the  forest — a  venerable  comparison.  5 

The  argument  was  conducted  on  both  sides 
with  spirit  and  earnestness,  Hghtened  here 
and  there  by  frisky  touches  of  the  polysyllabic 
playful,  reminding  one  of  the  serious  pursuit 
of  their  fun  by  truant  boys  that  are  assured  10 
they  are  out  of  the  eye  of  their  master,  and 
now  and  then  indulge  in  an  imitation  of  him. 
And  well  might  it  be  supposed  that  the  comic 
idea  was  asleep,  not  overlooking  them !  It 
resolved  at  last  to  this,  that  either  Due  Pas-  15 
cjuier  was  a  scandal  on  our  humanity  in  cling- 
ing to  life  so  long,  or  that  he  honored  it  by 
so  sturdy  a  resistance  to  the  enemy.  As  one 
who  has  entangled  himself  in  a  labyrinth  is 
glad  to  get  out  again  at  the  entrance,  the  20 
argument  ran  about,  to  conclude  with  its 
commencement. 

Now,  imagine  a  master  of  the  comic  treat- 
ing this  theme,  and  particularly  the  argument 
on  it.  Imagine  an  Aristophanic  comedy  of  25 
the  Centenarian,  with  choric  praises  of  hero- 
ical  early  death,  and  the  same  of  a  stubborn 
vitality,  and  the  poet  laughing  at  the  Chorus; 


124       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

and  the  grand  question  for  contention  in 
dialogue,  as  to  the  exact  age  when  a  man 
should  die,  to  the  identical  minute,  that  he 
may  preserve  the  respect  of  his  fellows,  fol- 

5  lowed  by  a  systematic  attempt  to  make  an 
accurate  measurement  in  parallel  lines,  with 
a  tough  rope-yarn  by  one  party,  and  a  string 
of  yawns  by  the  other,  of  the  veteran's  power 
of  enduring  life,  and  our  capacity  for  endur- 

10  ing  him,  with  tremendous  pulling  on  both 
sides.  Would  not  the  comic  view  of  the  dis- 
cussion illumine  it  and  the  disputants  like 
very  lightning  ?  There  are  questions,  as  well 
as   persons,   that   only   the   comic   can   fitly 

15   touch. 

Aristophanes  would  probably  have  crowned 
the  ancient  tree  with  the  consolatory  ob- 
servation to  the  haggard  line  of  long-expec- 
tant heirs  of  the  Centenarian,  that  they  live 

20  to  see  the  blessedness  of  coming  of  a  strong 
stock.  The  shafts  of  his  ridicule  would  mainly 
have  been  aimed  at  the  disputants;  for  the 
sole  ground  of  the  argument  was  the  old 
man's  character,  and  sophists  are  not  needed 

25  to  demonstrate  that  we  can  very  soon  have 
too  much  of  a  bad  thing.  A  centenarian 
does  not  necessarily  provoke  the  comic  idea, 
nor  does  the  corpse  of  a  duke.    It  is  not  pro- 


THE  COMIC  SPIRIT  125 

voked  in  the  order  of  nature,  until  we  draw 
its  penetrating  attentiveness  to  some  cir- 
cumstance with  which  we  have  been  mixing 
our  private  interests,  or  our  speculative  ob- 
fiiscation.  Dulness,  insensible  to  the  comic,  5 
has  the  privilege  of  arousing  it;  and  the  lay- 
ing of  a  dull  finger  on  matters  of  human  life 
is  the  surest  method  of  establishing  electrical 
communications  with  a  battery  of  laughter — 
where  the  comic  idea  is  prevalent.  lo 

But  if  the  comic  idea  prevailed  with  us, 
and  we  had  an  Aristophanes  to  barb  and 
wing  it,  we  should  be  breathing  air  of  Athens. 
Prosers  now  pouring  forth  on  us  like  public 
fountains  would  be  cut  short  in  the  street  15 
and  left  blinking,  dumb  as  pillar-posts  with 
letters  thrust  into  their  mouths.  We  should 
throw  off  incubus,  our  dreadful  familiar — by 
some  called  boredom — whom  it  is  our  pres- 
ent humiliation  to  be  just  alive  enough  to  20 
loathe,  never  quick  enough  to  foil.  There 
would  be  a  bright  and  positive,  clear  Hellenic 
perception  of  facts.  J'lie  vapors  of  unreason 
an<l  sentimentalism  would  be  blown  away 
before  they  were  productive.  Where  would  25 
pessimist  and  optimist  be?  They  would  in 
any  case  have  a  diminished  audience.  Yet 
possibly  the  change  of  despots,  from  good- 


126       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

natured  old  obtuseness  to  keen-edged  intel- 
ligence, which  is  by  nature  merciless,  would 
be  more  than  we  could  bear.  The  rupture 
of  the  link  between  dull  people,  consisting 

5  in  the  fraternal  agreement  that  something  is 
too  clever  for  them,  and  a  shot  beyond  them, 
is  not  to  be  thought  of  lightly,  for,  slender 
though  the  link  may  seem,  it  is  equivalent 
to  a  cement  forming  a  concrete  of  dense  co- 

10  hesion,  very  desirable  in  the  estimation  of 
the  statesman. 

A  political  Aristophanes,  taking  advantage 
of  his  lyrical  Bacchic  license,  was  found  too 
much  for  political  Athens.     I  would  not  ask 

15  to  have  him  revived,  but  that  the  sharp  light 
of  such  a  spirit  as  his  might  be  with  us  to 
strike  now  and  then  on  public  affairs,  public 
themes,  to  make  them  spin  along  more 
briskly. 

20  He  hated  with  the  politician's  fervor  the 
Sophist  who  corrupted  simplicity  of  thought, 
the  poet  who  destroyed  purity  of  style,  the 
demagogue,  'the  saw-toothed  monster,'  who, 
as  he  conceived,  chicaned  the  mob;    and  he 

25  held  his  own  against  them  by  strength  of 
laughter,  until  fines,  the  curtailing  of  his 
comic  license  in  the  chorus,  and  ultimately 
the  ruin  of  Athens,  which  could  no  longer 


THE  COMIC  SPIRIT  127 

support  the  expense  of  the  chorus,  threw  him 
altogether  on  dialogue,  and  brought  him 
under  the  law.  After  the  catastrophe,  the 
poet,  who  had  ever  been  gazing  back  at  the 
men  of  Marathon  and  Salamis,  must  have  5 
felt  that  he  had  foreseen  it;  and  that  he  was 
wise  when  he  pleaded  for  peace,  and  derided 
military  coxcombry  and  the  captious  old 
creature  Demus,  we  can  admit.  He  had  the 
comic  poet's  gift  of  common  sense — which  lO 
does  not  always  include  political  intelligence; 
yet  his  political  tendency  raised  him  above 
the  Old-Comedy  turn  for  uproarious  farce. 
He  abused  Socrates;  but  Xenophon,  the  dis- 
ciple of  Socrates,  by  his  trained  rhetoric  saved  13 
the  Ten  Thousand.  Aristophanes  might  say 
that,  if  his  warnings  had  been  followed,  there 
would  have  been  no  such  thing  as  a  mercenary 
Greek  expedition  under  Cyrus.  Athens,  how- 
ever, was  on  a  landslip,  falling;  none  could  20 
arrest  it.  To  gaze  back,  to  uphold  the  old 
times,  was  a  most  natural  conservatism,  and 
fruitless.  The  aloe  had  bloomed.  Whether 
right  or  wrong  in  his  politics  and  his  criticisms, 
and  bearing  in  mind  the  instruments  he  played  25 
on  and  the  audience  he  had  to  win,  there  is 
an  idea  in  his  comedies;  it  is  the  idea  of  good 
citizenship. 


128        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

He  is  not  likely  to  be  revived.  He  stands, 
like  Shakespeare,  an  unapproachable.  Swift 
says  of  him,  with  a  loving  chuckle: 

But  as  to  comic  Aristophanes, 
5  The  rogue  too  vicious  and  too  profane  is. 

Aristophanes  was  'profane,'  under  satiric 
direction;  unlike  his  rivals  Cratinus,  Phryni- 
chus,  Ameipsias,  Eupolis,  and  others,  if  we 
are  to  believe  him,  who,  in  their  extraordinary 

10  Donnybrook  Fair  of  the  day  of  comedy, 
thumped  one  another  and  everybody  else 
with  absolute  heartiness,  as  he  did,  but  aimed 
at  small  game,  and  dragged  forth  particular 
women,  which  he  did  not.    He  is  an  aggregate 

15  of  many  men,  all  of  a  certain  greatness.  We 
may  build  up  a  conception  of  his  powers  if 
we  mount  Rabelais  upon  Hudibras,  lift  him 
with  the  songfulness  of  Shelley,  give  him  a 
vein  of  Heinrich  Heine,  and  cover  him  with 

20  the  mantle  of  the  Ant i- Jacobin,  adding  (that 
there  may  be  some  Irish  in  him)  a  dash  of 
Grattan,  before  he  is  in  motion. 

But  such  efiPorts  at  conceiving  one  great 
one  by  incorporation  of  minors  are  vain,  and 

25  cry  for  excuse.  Supposing  Wilkes  for  leading 
man  in  a  country  constantly  plunging  into 
war    under    some    plumed    Lamachus,    with 


THE  COMIC  SPIRIT  129 

enemies  periodically  firing  the  land  up  to  the 
gates  of  London,  and  a  Samuel  Foote,  of 
prodigious  genius, attacking  him  with  ridicule: 
I  think  it  gives  a  notion  of  the  conflict  en- 
gaged in  by  Aristophanes.  This  laughing  5 
bald-pate,  as  he  calls  himself,  was  a  Titanic 
pamphleteer,  using  laughter  for  his  political 
weapon;  a  laughter  without  scruple,  the 
laughter  of  Hercules.  He  was  primed  with 
wit,  as  with  the  garlic  he  speaks  of  giving  to  lO 
the  game-cocks  to  make  them  fight  the  better. 
And  he  was  a  lyric  poet  of  aerial  delicacy, 
with  the  homely  song  of  a  jolly  national  poet, 
and  a  poet  of  such  feeling  that  the  comic 
mask  is  at  times  no  broader  than  a  cloth  on  15 
a  face  to  show  the  serious  features  of  our 
common  likeness.  He  is  not  to  be  revived; 
but,  if  his  method  were  studied,  some  of  the 
fire  in  him  would  come  to  us,  and  we  might 
be  revived.  20 

Taking  them  generally,  the  English  public 
are  most  in  sympathy  with  this  primitive 
Aristophanic  comedy,  wherein  the  comic  is 
capped  by  the  grotesque,  irony  tips  the  wit. 
and  satire  is  a  naked  sword.  They  have  th«  25 
basis  of  the  comic  in  them — an  esteem  for 
common  sense.  They  cordially  dislike  the 
reverse  of  it.    They  have  a  rich  laugh,  though 


130       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

it  is  not  the  gros  rire  of  the  Gaul  tossing  gros 
sel,  nor  the  poHshed  Frenchman's  mentally 
digestive  laugh.  And  if  they  have  now,  like 
a  monarch  with  a  troop  of  dwarfs,  too  many 
5  jesters  kicking  the  dictionary  about,  to  let 
them  reflect  that  they  are  dull,  occasionally 
(like  the  pensive  monarch  surprising  himself 
with  an  idea  of  an  idea  of  his  own),  they  look 
so.     And  they  are  given  to  looking  in  the 

10  glass.  They  must  see  that  something  ails 
them.  How  much  even  the  better  order  of 
them  will  endure,  without  a  thought  of  the 
defensive,  when  the  person  afflicting  them  is 
protected  from  satire,  we  read  in  memoirs  of 

15  a  preceding  age,  where  the  vulgarly  tyran- 
nous hostess  of  a  great  house  of  reception 
shuffled  the  guests  and  played  them  like  a 
pack  of  cards,  with  her  exact  estimate  of  the 
strength  of  each  one  printed  on  them;    and 

20  still  this  house  continued  to  be  the  most  pop- 
ular in  England,  nor  did  the  lady  ever  appear 
in  print  or  on  the  boards  as  the  comic  type 
that  she  was. 

It  has  been  suggested  that  they  have  not 

25  yet  spiritually  comprehended  the  signification 
of  living  in  society;  for  who  are  cheerfuUer, 
brisker  of  wit,  in  the  fields,  and  as  explorers, 
colonizers,  backwoodsmen  ?    They  are  happy 


THE  COMIC  SPIRIT  131 

in  rough  exercise,  and  also  in  complete  repose. 
The  intermediate  condition,  when  thej'  are 
called  upon  to  talk  to  one  another,  upon  other 
than  affairs  of  business  or  their  hobbies,  re- 
veals them  wearing  a  curious  look  of  vacancy,  5 
as  it  were  the  socket  of  an  eye  wanting.  The 
comic  is  perpetually  springing  up  in  social 
life,  and  it  oppresses  them  from  not  being 
perceived. 

Thus,  at  a  dinner-party,  one  of  the  guests,    10 
who  happens  to  have  enrolled  himself  in  a 
burial-company,  politely  entreats  the  others 
to  inscribe  their  names  as  shareholders,  ex- 
patiaiting  on  the  advantages  accruing  to  them 
in   the  event  of  their  very  possible  speedy   15 
death,  the  salubrity  of  the  site,  the  aptitude 
of  the  soil  for  a  quick  consumption  of  their 
remains,  etc.;    and  they  drink  sadness  from 
the  incongruous  man,  and  conceive  indiges- 
tion   not    seeing    him    in    a    sharply-defined   20 
light  that  would  bid  them   taste  the   comic 
of  him.     Or  it  is  mentioned  that  a  newly- 
elected  member  of  our  Parliament  celebrates 
his  arrival  at  eminence  by  the  publication  of 
a  book  on  cab-fares,  dedicated  to  a  beloved   25 
female  relative  deceased,  and  the  comment 
on  it  is  the  word  'Indeed.'     But,  merely  for 
a  contrast,  turn  to  a  not  uncommon  scene 


132       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

of  yesterday  in  the  hunting-field,  where  a 
brilHant  young  rider,  having  broken  his  col- 
lar-bone, trots  away  very  soon  after,  against 
medical  interdict,  half  put  together  in  splin- 

5  ters,  to  the  most  distant  meet  of  his  neigh- 
borhood, sure  of  escaping  his  doctor,  who 
is  the  first  person  he  encounters.  'I  came 
here  purposely  to  avoid  you,'  says  the  pa- 
tient.    *I  came  here  purposely  to  take  care 

10  of  you,'  says  the  doctor.  Off  they  go,  and 
come  to  a  swollen  brook.  The  patient  clears 
it  handsomely;  the  doctor  tumbles  in.  All 
the  field  are  alive  with  the  heartiest  relish 
of  every   incident  and   every  cross-light  on 

15  it,  and  dull  would  the  man  have  been  thought 
who  had  not  his  word  to  say  about  it  when 
riding  home. 

In  our  prose  literature  we  have  had  de- 
lightful comic  writers.     Besides  Fielding  and 

20  Goldsmith,  there  is  Miss  Austen,  whose 
Emma  and  Mr.  Elton  might  walk  straight 
into  a  comedy,  were  the  plot  arranged  for 
them.  Gait's  neglected  novels  have  some 
characters   and    strokes  of   shrewd   comedy. 

25  In  our  poetic  literature  the  comic  is  delicate 
and  graceful  above  the  touch  of  Italian  and 
French.  Generally,  however,  the  English 
elect  excel  in  satire,  and  tliey  are  noble  hu- 


THE  COMIC  SPIRIT  133 

morists.  The  national  disposition  is  for  hard- 
hitting, with  a  moral  purpose  to  sanction  it; 
or  for  a  rosy,  sometimes  a  larmoyant,  ge- 
niality, not  unmanly  in  its  verging  upon  ten- 
derness, and  with  a  singular  attraction  for  5 
thickheadedness,  to  decorate  it  with  asses' 
ears  and  the  most  beautiful  sylvan  haloes. 
But  the  comic  is  a  different  spirit. 

You  may  estimate  your  capacity  for  comic 
perception  by  being  able  to  detect  the  ridicule  lO 
of  them  you  love  without  loving  them  less; 
and  more  by  being  able  to  see  yourself  some- 
what ridiculous  in  dear  eyes,  and  accepting 
the  correction  their  image  of  you  proposes. 

Each  one  of  an  afifectionate  couple  may  be  is 
willing,  as  we  say,  to  die  for  the  other,  yet 
unwilling  to  utter  the  agreeable  word  at  the 
right  moment;  but  if  the  wits  were  sufficiently 
quick  for  them  to  perceive  that  they  are  in  a 
comic  situation,  as  affectionate  couples  must  20 
be  when  they  quarrel,  they  would  not  wait 
for  the  moon  or  the  almanac,  or  a  Dorine,  to 
bring  back  the  flood-tide  of  tender  feelings, 
that  they  should  join  hands  and  lips. 

If  you  detect  the  ridicule,  and  your  kindli-   25 
ness  is  chilled  by  it,  you  are  slipping  into  the 
grasp  of  Satire. 

If,  instead  of  falling  foul  of  the  ridiculous 


134        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

person  with  a  satiric  rod,  to  make  him  writhe 
and  shriek  aloud,  you  prefer  to  sting  him 
under  a  semi-caress,  by  which  he  shall  in  his 
anguish  be  rendered  dubious  whether  indeed 

5  anything  has  hurt  him,  you  are  an  engine  of 
Irony. 

If  you  laugh  all  round  him,  tumble  him, 
roll  him  about,  deal  him  a  smack,  and  drop 
a  tear  on  him,  own  his  likeness  to  you,  and 

10  3'ours  to  your  neighbor,  spare  liim  as  little 
as  you  shun,  pity  him  as  much  as  you  expose, 
it  is  a  spirit  of  Humor  that  is  moving  you. 

The  comic,  which  is  the  perceptive,  is  the 
governing  spirit,  awakening  and  givmg  aim 

15  to  these  powers  of  laughter,  but  it  is  not  to 
be  confounded  with  them;  it  enfolds  a  thinner 
form  of  them,  diflFering  from  satire  in  not 
sharply  driving  into  the  quivering  sensibili- 
ties, and  from  humor  in  not  comforting  them 

20   and  tucking  them  up,  or  indicating  a  broader 

than  the  range  of  this  bustling  world  to  them. 

Fielding's  Jonathan  Wild  presents  a  case 

of  this  peculiar  distinction,  when  that  man 

of  eminent  greatness  remarks  upon  the  un- 

25  fairness  of  a  trial  in  which  the  condemnation 
has  been  brought  about  by  twelve  men  of 
the  opposite  party;  for  it  is  not  satiric,  it  is 
not  humorous;    yet  it  is   immensely   comic 


THE   COMIC   SPIRIT  135 

to  hear  a  guilty  villain  protesting  that  his 
own  'party'  should  have  a  voice  in  the  law. 
It  opens  an  avenue  into  villains'  ratiocination. 
And  the  comic  is  not  canceled  though  we 
should  suppose  Jonathan  to  be  giving  play  5 
to  his  humor.  (I  may  have  dreamed  this, 
or  had  it  suggested  to  me,  for,  on  referring 
to  Jonathan  Wild,  I  do  not  find  it.)  Apply 
the  case  to  the  man  of  deep  wit,  who  is  ever 
certain  of  his  condemnation  by  the  opposite  lO 
party,  and  then  it  ceases  to  be  comic,  and 
will  be  satiric. 

The  look  of  Fielding  upon  Richardson  is 
essentially  comic.     His  method  of  correcting 
the  sentimental  writer  is  a  mixture  of  the   15 
comic  and  the  humorous.     Parson  Adams  is 
a  creation  of  humor.     But  both  the  concep- 
tion and  the  presentation  of  Alceste  and  of 
Tartuffe,  of    Celimene    and    Philaminte,   are 
purely  comic,  addressed  to  the  intellect;  there   20 
is  no  humor  in  them,  and  they  refresh  the 
intellect  they  quicken  to  detect  their  comedy, 
by  force  of  the  contrast  they  offer  between 
themselves  and  the  wiser  world  about  them — 
that   is   to   say,  society,  or  that  assemblage   25 
of  minds   whereof   the   comic   spirit   has   its 
origin. 

Byron  had  splendid  powers  of  humor,  and 


136        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

the  most  poetic  satire  that  we  have  example 

of,  fusing  at  times  to  hard  irony.     He  had 

no  strong  comic  sense,  or  he  would  not  have 

taken   an   anti-social   position,   which   is   di- 

5  rectly   opposed    to   the   comic;     and    in    his 

philosophy,  judged  by  philosophers,  he  is  a 

comic   figure   by    reason   of   this   deficiency. 

'Sobald  er  reflectirt  ist  er  ein  Kind,'  Goethe 

says  of  him.     Carlyle  sees  him  in  this  comic 

10  light,  treats  him  in  the  humorous  manner. 

The  satirist  is  a  moral  agent,  often  a  social 

scavenger,  working  on  a  storage  of  bile. 

The  ironist  is  one  thing  or  another,  ac- 
cording to  his  caprice.  Irony  is  the  humor 
15  of  satire;  it  may  be  savage,  as  in  Swift,  with 
a  moral  object,  or  sedate,  as  in  Gibbon,  with 
a  malicious.  The  foppish  irony  fretting  to 
be  seen,  and  the  irony  which  leers,  that  you 
shall  not  mistake  its  intention,  are  failures 
20  in  satiric  effort  pretending  to  the  treasures 
of  ambiguity. 

The  humorist  of  mean  order  is  a  refreshing 
laugher,  giving  tone  to  the  feelings,  and  some- 
times allowing  the  feelings  to  be  too  much 
25  for  him;  but  the  humorist  of  high  has  an 
embrace  of  contrasts  beyond  the  scope  of 
the  comic  poet. 

Heart  and  mind  laugh  out  at  Don  Quixote, 


THE   COMIC  SPIRIT  137 

and  still  you  brood  on  him.  The  juxtaposi- 
tion of  the  knight  and  squire  is  a  comic  con- 
ception, the  opposition  of  their  natures  most 
humorous.  They  are  as  different  as  the  two 
hemispheres  in  the  time  of  Columbus,  j'et  5 
they  touch,  and  are  bound  in  one,  by  laughter. 
The  knight's  great  aims  and  constant  mis- 
haps, liis  cliivalrous  valiancy  exercised  on 
absurd  objects,  his  good  sense  along  the  high 
road  of  the  craziest  of  expeditions,  the  com-  lo 
passion  he  plucks  out  of  derison,  and  the 
admirable  figure  he  preserves  wliile  stalking 
through  the  franticuHy  grotesque  and  bur- 
lesque assailing  him,  are  in  the  loftiest  moods 
of  humor,  fusing  the  tragic  sentiment  with  15 
the  comic  narrative.  The  stroke  of  the  great 
lumiorist  is  world-wide,  with  lights  of  tragedy 
in  his  laughter. 

Taking  a  living  great,  though  not  creative, 
humorist  to  guide  our  description:  the  skull  20 
of  Yorick  is  in  his  hands  in  our  seasons  of 
festival;  he  sees  visions  of  primitive  man 
capering  preposterously  under  the  gorgeous 
robes  of  ceremonial.  Our  souls  must  be  on 
fire  when  we  wear  solenmity,  if  we  would  not  25 
press  upon  his  shrewdest  nerve.  Finite  and 
infinite  flash  from  one  to  the  other  with  him, 
lending  him  a  two-edged  thought  that  peeps 


138        THE  IDEA  OF   COMEDY 

out  of  his  peacefullest  lines  by  fits,  like  the 
lantern  of  the  fire-watcher  at  windows,  going 
the  rounds  at  night.  The  comportnaent  and 
performances  of  men  in  society  are  to  him,  by 
5  the  vivid  comparison  with  their  mortality, 
more  grotesque  than  respectable.  But  ask 
yourself:  'Is  he  always  to  be  relied  on  for 
justness.'*'  He  will  fly  straight  as  the  emis- 
sary eagle  back  to  Jove  at  the  true  Hero. 

10  He  will  also  make  as  determined  a  swift  de- 
scent upon  the  man  of  his  wilful  choice,  whom 
we  cannot  distinguish  as  a  true  one.  This 
vast  power  of  his,  built  up  of  the  feelings  and 
the  intellect  in  union,  is  often  wanting  in 

15  proportion  and  in  discretion.  Humorists 
touching  upon  history  or  society  are  given 
to  be  capricious.  They  are,  as  in  the  case 
of  Sterne,  given  to  be  sentimental;  for  with 
them  the  feelings  are  primary,  as  with  singers. 

!  Comedy,  on  the  other  hand,  is  an  interjjre- 
tation  of  the  general  mind,  and  is  for  that 
reason  of  necessity  kept  in  restraint.  The 
French  lay  marked  stress  on  mesure  et  gout, 
and  they  own  how  much  they  owe  to  Moliere 

25  for  leading  them  in  simple  justness  and  taste. 
We  can  teach  them  many  things;  they  can 
teach  us  in  this. 

The  comic  poet  is  in  the  narrow  field,  or 


THE  COMIC   SPIRIT  139 

enclosed  square,  of  the  society  he  depicts; 
and  he  addresses  the  still  narrower  enclosure 
of  men's  intellects,  with  reference  to  the 
operation  of  the  social  world  upon  their  char- 
acters. He  is  not  concerned  with  beginnings  5 
or  endings  or  surroundings,  but  with  what 
you  are  now  weaNdng.  To  understand  his 
work  and  value  it,  you  must  have  a  sober 
liking  of  your  kind,  and  a  sober  estimate  of 
our  civilized  qualities.  The  aim  and  business  lO 
of  the  comic  poet  are  misunderstood,  his 
meaning  is  not  seized  nor  his  point  of  view 
taken,  when  he  is  accused  of  dishonoring 
our  nature  and  being  hostile  to  sentiment, 
tending  to  spitefulness  and  making  an  un-  15 
fair  use  of  laughter.  Those  who  detect  irony 
in  comedy  do  so  because  they  choose  to  see 
it  in  life.  Poverty,  says  the  satirist,  'has 
nothing  harder  in  itself  than  that  it  makes 
men  ridiculous.'  But  poverty  is  never  ridic-  20 
ulous  to  comic  perception  until  it  attempts 
to  make  its  rags  conceal  its  bareness  in  a  for- 
lorn attempt  at  decency,  or  foolishlj^  to  rival 
ostentation.  Caleb  Balderstone,  in  his  en- 
deavor to  keep  up  the  honor  of  a  noble  house-  2j 
hold  in  a  state  of  beggary,  is  an  exquisitely 
comic  character.  In  the  case  of  'poor  rela- 
tives,' on  the  other  hand,  it  is  the  rich,  whom 


140       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

they  perplex,  that  are  really  comic;  and  to 
laugh  at  the  former,  not  seeing  the  comedy 
of  the  latter,  is  to  betray  dulness  of  vision. 

,  ,  Humorist  and  satirist  frequently  hunt  to- 
5  gether  as  ironists  in  pursuit  of  the  grotesque, 
to  the  exclusion  of  the  comic.  That  was  an 
affecting  moment  in  the  history  of  the  Prince 
Regent,  when  the  First  Gentleman  of  Europe 
burst  into  tears  at  a  sarcastic  remark  of  Beau 

10  Brummell's  on  the  cut  of  his  coat.  Humor, 
satire,  irony,  pounce  on  it  altogether  as  their 
common  prey.  The  Comic  Spirit  eyes,  but 
does  not  touch,  it.  Put  into  action,  it  would 
be  farcical.     It  is  too  gross  for  comedy. 

15  Incidents  of  a  kind  casting  ridicule  on  our 
unfortunate  nature,  instead  of  our  conven- 
tional life,  provoke  derisive  laughter,  which 
thwarts  the  comic  idea.  But  derision  is  foiled 
by  the  play  of  the  intellect.    Most  of  doubtful 

20  causes  in  contest  are  open  to  comic  inter- 
pretation, and  any  intellectual  pleading  of 
a  doubtful  cause  contains  germs  of  an  idea 
of  comedy. 

The  laughter  of  satire  is  a  blow  in  the  back 

25  or  the  face.  Tlie  laughter  of  comedy  is  im- 
personal and  of  unrivaled  politeness,  nearer 
a  smile — often  no  more  than  a  smile.  It 
laughs  through  the  mind,  for  the  mind  di- 


THE  CO^nC  SPIRIT  141 

rects  it;    and  it  might  be  called  the  liumor 
of  the  mind. 

One  excellent  test  of  the  civilization  of  a 
country,   as  I  have  said,   I   take  to  be  the 
flourishing   of   the   comic   idea   and   comedy;     5 
and  the  test  of  true  comedy  is  that  it  shall 
awaken  thoughtful  laughter. 

If    you    believe    that    our    civilization    is 
founded  in  common  sense  (and  it  is  the  first 
condition  of  sanity  to  believe  it),  you  will,    lO 
when   contemplating    men,    discern   a   Spirit 
overhead;    not  more  heavenly  than  the  light 
flashed    upward    from    glassy    surfaces,    but 
luminous  and  watchful;    never  shooting  be- 
yond them,  nor  lagging  in  the  rear;  so  clo.sely    15 
attached  to  them  that  it  may  be  taken  for  a 
slavish  reflex,  until  its  features  are  studied. 
It  has  the  sage's  brows,  and  the  sunny  malice 
of  a  faun  lurks  at  the  corners  of  the  half- 
closed  lips  drawn  in  an  idle  wariness  of  half-   20 
tension.      That  slim   feasting   smile,   shaped 
like  the  long-bow,  was  once  a  big  round  satyr's 
laugh,  that  flung  up  the  brows  like  a  fortress 
lifted  by  gunpowder.     The  laugh  will  come 
again,  but  it  will  be  of  the  order  of  the  smile,    25 
finely-tempered,     showing     sunlight     of     the 
mind,    mental    richness    rather    than    noisy  •    - 
enormity.     Its  common  aspect  is  one  of  un- 


142       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

solicitous  observation,  as  if  surveying  a  full 
field  and  having  leisure  to  dart  on  its  chosen 
morsels,  without  any  fluttering  eagerness. 
Men's  future  upon  earth  does  not  attract 
5  it;  their  honesty  and  shapeliness  in  the  pres- 
ent does;  and  whenever  they  wax  out  of 
proportion,  overblown,  affected,  pretentious, 
bombastical,  hypocritical,  pedantic,  fantas- 
tically delicate;    whenever  it  sees  them  self- 

10  deceived  or  hoodwinked,  given  to  run  riot 
in  idolatries,  drifting  into  vanities,  congregat- 
ing in  absurdities,  planning  short-sightedly, 
plotting  dementedly;  whenever  they  are  at 
variance  with  their  professions,  and  violate 

15   the  unwritten  but  perceptible  laws  binding 
them  in  consideration  one  to  another;   when- 
ever they  offend  sound  reason,  fair  justice; 
are  false  in  humility  or  mined  with  conceit, 
•'   individually,  or  in  the  bulk;   the  Spirit  over- 

2u  head  will  look  humanely  malign,  and  cast  an 
oblique  light  on  them,  followed  by  volleys 
of  silvery  laughter.  That  is  the  Comic 
Spirit. 

Not  to  distinguish  it  is  to  be  bull-blind  to 

25  the  spiritual,  and  to  deny  the  existence  of  a 
mind  of  man  where  minds  of  men  are  in  work- 
ing conjunction. 

You  must,  as  I  have  said,  believe  that  our 


THE  COMIC  SPIRIT  143 

state  of  society  is  founded  in  common  sense, 
otherwise  you  will  not  be  struck  by  the  con- 
trasts the  Comic  Spirit  perceives,  or  have  it 
to  look  to  for  your  consolation.  You  will, 
in  fact,  be  standing  in  that  peculiar  oblique  5 
beam  of  light,  yourself  illuminated  to  the 
general  eye  as  the  very  object  of  chase  and 
doomed  quarry  of  the  thing  obscure  to  you. 
But  to  feel  its  presence,  and  to  see  it,  is  your 
assurance  that  many  sane  and  solid  minds  lo 
are  with  you  in  what  you  are  experiencing; 
and  this  of  itself  spares  you  the  pain  of  satir- 
ical heat,  and  the  bitter  craving  to  strike 
heavy  blows.  You  share  the  sublime  of 
wrath,  that  would  not  have  hurt  the  foolish,  13 
but  merely  (lemun.strat(>  their  foolishness. 
Moliere  was  contented  to  revenge  himself 
on  the  critics  of  the  Ecole  des  Femmes  by 
writing  the  Critique  de  I'Ecole  des  Femmes, 
one  of  the  wisest  as  well  as  the  playfullest  20 
of  studies  in  criticism.  A  perception  of  the 
Comic  Spirit  gives  high  fellowship.  You 
become  a  citizen  of  the  selecter  world,  the 
highest  we  know  of  in  connection  with  our 
old  world,  which  is  not  supermundane.  Look  25 
there  for  your  unchallengeable  upper  class ! 
Y'ou  feel  that  you  are  one  of  this  our  civilized 
community,  that  you  cannot  escape  irc^m  it. 


144       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

and  would  not  if  you  could.  Good  hope  sus-^ 
tains  you;  weariness  does  not  overwhelm 
you;  in  isolation  you  see  no  charms  for  vanity; 
personal   pride   is   greatly   moderated.      Nor 

5  shall  your  title  of  citizenship  exclude  you 
from  worlds  of  imagination  or  of  devotion. 
The  Comic  Spirit  is  not  hostile  to  the  sweetest 
songfuUy  poetic.  Chaucer  bubbles  with  it; 
Shakespeare  overflows;  there  is  a  mild  moon's 

10  ray  of  it  (pale  with  super-refinement  through 
distance  from  our  flesh  and  blood  planet)  in 
Comus.  Pope  has  it,  and  it  is  the  daylight 
side  of  the  night  half-obscuring  Cowper.  It 
is  only  hostile  to  the  priestly  element  when 

15  that,  by  baleful  swelling,  transcends  and  over- 
laps the  bounds  of  its  office;  and  then,  in 
extreme  cases,  it  is  too  true  to  itself  to  speak, 
and  veils  the  lamp — as,  for  example,  the  spec- 
tacle of  Bossuet  over  the  dead  body  of  Moliere, 

20  at  which  the  dark  angels  may,  but  men  do  not, 
laugh. 

We  have  had  comic  pulpits,  for  a  sign  that 
the  laughter-moving  and  the  worshipful  may 
be  in  alliance;   I  know  not  how  far  comic,  or 

25  how  much  assisted  in  seeming  so  by  the  un- 
expectedness and  the  relief  of  its  appearance; 
at  least  they  are  popular — they  are  said  to 
win  the  ear.     Laughter  is  open  to  perversion. 


THE  COMIC  SPIRIT  145 

like  other  good  things;    the  scornful  and  the 
brutal  sorts  are  not  unknown  to  us;   but  the 
laughter  directed  by  the  Comic  Spirit  is  a 
harmless  wine,  conducing  to  sobriety  in  the 
degree  that  it  enlivens.     It  enters  you  hke     5 
fresh  air  into  a  study,  as  when  one  of  the 
sudden  contrasts  of  the  comic  idea  floods  the 
brain  like  reassuring  daylight.     You  are  cog- 
nizant of  the  true  kind  by  feeling  that  you 
take  it  in,  savor  it,  and  have  what  flowers    lo 
live  on,   natural  air  for  food.     That  which 
you    give   out — the   joyful    roar — is    not   the 
better  part;    let  that  go  to  good-fellowship 
and  the  benefit  of  the  lungs.     Aristophanes?; 
promises  his  auditors  that,  if  they  will  retail  ..  15 
the  ideas  of  the  comic  poet  carefully,  as  they  \ 
keep   dried    fruits   in    boxes,    their   garments 
shall  smell  odoriferous  of  wisdom  throughout' 
the  year.     The  boast  will  not  be  thought  an 
empty  one  by  those  who  have  choice  friends    20 
that   have   stocked    themselves   according   to 
his  directions.     Such  treasuries  of  sparkling 
laughter  are  wells  in  our  desert.     Sensitive-' 
ness  to  the..coraic  laugh.  ia_a  step  in  civiliza- 
tion.    To  shrink  from  being  an  object  of  it   25 
is  a  step  in  cultivation.    We  know  the  degree 
of  refinement  in  men  by  the  matter  they  will 
laugh  at,  and  the  ring  of  the  laugh;    but  we 


146        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

know  likewise  that  the  larger  natures  are  dis- 
tinguished by  the  great  breadth  of  their  power 
of  laughter,  and  no  one  really  loving  Moliere 
is  refined  by  that  love  to  despise  or  be  dense 

5  to  Aristophanes,  though  it  may  be  that  the 
lover  of  Aristophanes  will  not  have  risen  to 
the  height  of  Moliere.  Embrace  them  both, 
and  you  have  the  whole  scale  of  laughter  in 
your  breast.    Nothing  in  fhe  world  surpasses 

10  in  stormy  fun  the  scene  in  the  Frogs,  when 
Bacchus  and  Xanthias  receive  their  thrash- 
ings from  the  hands  of  business-like  Acacus, 
to  discover  which  is  the  divinity  of  the  two 
by  his  imperviousness  to  the  mortal  condition 

15  of  pain,  and  each,  under  the  obligation  of  not 
crying  out,  makes  believe  that  his  horrible  bel- 
low— the  god's  'ioul  iouT  being  the  lustier — 
means  only  the  stopping  of  a  sneeze,  or  horse- 
men sighted,  or  the  prelude  to  an  invocation 

20  to  some  deity,  and  the  slave  contrives  that 
the  god  shall  get  the  bigger  lot  of  blows.  Pas- 
sages of  Rabelais,  one  or  two  in  Don  Quixote, 
and  the  supper  'in  the  manner  of  the  ancients' 
in  Peregrine  Pickle,  are  of  a  similar  cataract 

25  of  laughter.  But  it  is  not  illuminating;  it  is 
not  the  laughter  of  the  mind.  Moliere's 
laughter,  in  his  purest  comedies,  is  ethereal — 
as  light  to  our  nature,  as  color  to  our  thoughts. 


THE  COMIC  SPIRIT  147 

The  Misanthrope  and  the  Tartuffe  have  no 
audible  laughter,  but  the  characters  are 
steeped  in  the  comic  spirit.  The.v  quicken 
the  mind  through  laughter,  from  coming 
out  of  tne  mindT~and"tIie  mind  accepts  them  ■'> 
because  they  are  clear  interpretations  of 
pertain  cTiapters_o^"T:"E"e  BooK  lymg  open  be- 
fore  us  all.  Between  these  two  stand  Sha^e^ 
speare  and  Cervantes,  with  the  richer  laugh 
of  heart  and  mind  in  one;  with  much  of  the  lo 
Aristophanic  robustness,  something  of  Mo- 
licre's  delicacy. 

The  laughter  heard  in  circles  not  pervaded 
by  the  comic  idea  will  sound  harsh  and  soul- 
less, like  versified  prose,  if  you  step  into  them  13 
with  a  sense  of  the  distinction.  You  will 
fancy  you  have  changed  your  habitation  to 
a  planet  remoter  from  the  sun.  You  may 
be  among  powerful  brains,  too.  You  will 
not  find  poets — or  but  a  stray  one,  over-  20 
worshiped.  You  will  find  learned  men  un- 
doubtedly, professors,  reputed  philosophers, 
and  illustrious  dilettanti.  They  have  in 
them,  perhaps,  every  element  composing 
light,  except  the  comic.  They  read  verse,  25 
they  discourse  of  art;  but  their  eminent  facul- 
ties are  not  under  that  vigilant  sense  of  a 
collective  sui>ervision,  spiritual  and  present, 


148       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

which  we  have  taken  note  of.  They  build 
a  temple  of  arrogance;  they  speak  much  in 
the  voice  of  oracles;  their  hilarity,  if  it  does 
not  dip  in  grossness,  is  usually  a  form  of  pug- 
5  nacity. 

Insufficiency  of  sight  in  the  eye  looking 
outward  has  deprived  them  of  the  eye  that 
should  look  inward.  They  have  never 
weighed  themselves  in  the  delicate  balance 

10  of  the  comic  idea,  so  as  to  obtain  a  suspicion 
of  the  rights  and  dues  of  the  world;  and  they 
have,  in  consequence,  an  irritable  personality. 
A  very  learned  English  professor  crushed  an 
argument  in  a  political  discussion  by  asking 

15  his  adversary  angrily:  'Are  you  aware,  Sir, 
that  I  am  a  philologer  .f* ' 

The  practice  of  polite  society  will  help  in 
training  themj  and  the_profesitQr.jon  a  sofa, 
with  beautiful   ladies   on   each  side  of  him, 

20  may  become  their  pupil  and  a  scholar  in 
manners  without  knowing  it;  he  is  at  least 
a  fair  and  pleasing  spectacle  to  the  comic 
Muse.  But  the  society  named  polite  is  volatile 
in  its  adorations,  and  to-morrow  will  be  pet- 

25  ting  a  bronzed  soldier,  or  a  black  African,  or 
a  prince,  or  a  spiritualist;  ideas  cannot  take 
root  in  its  ever-shifting  soil.  It  is  besides 
addicted  in  self-defence  to  gabble  exclusively 


THE  COMIC  SPIRIT  149 

of  the  aflfairs  of  its  rapidly  revolving  world, 
as  children  on  a  whirli-go-round  bestow  their 
attention  on  the  wooden  horse  or  cradle  ahead 
of  them,  to  escape  from  giddiness  and  pre- 
serve a  notion  of  identity.     The  professor  is     5 
better  out  of  a  circle  that  often  confoimds 
by  lionizing,  sometimes  annoys  by  abandon- 
ing, and  always  confuses.     The  school  that ! 
teaches  gently  what  peril  there  is  lest  a  culti- 
vated  head   should  still   be  coxcomb's,  and    iO 
the  colhsions  which  may  befall  high-soaring 
minds,  empty  or  full,  is  more  to  be  recom- 
mended than  the  sphere  of  incessant  motion 
supplying  it  with  material. 

Lands  where  the  Comic  Spirit  is  obscure   J5 
overhead  are  rank  with  raw  crops  of  matter. 
The   traveler   accustomed    to    smooth   high- 
ways and  people  not  covered  with  burrs  and     - 
prickles   is   amazed,   amid   so   much   that  is 
fair  and  cherishable,  to  come  upon  such  cu-   20 
rious    barbarism.      An    Englishman    paid    a 
visit  of  admiration  to  a  professor  in  the  land 
of  culture,   and  was   introduced   by   him   to 
another  distinguished  professor,,  to  whom  he 
took  so  cordially  as  to  walk  out  with  him  25 
alone  one  afternoon.     The  first  professor,  an 
erudite  entirely  worthy  of  the  sentiment  of 
scholarly    esteem    prompting    the    visit,    be- 


ISO       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

haved  (if  we  exclude  the  dagger)  with  the 
vindictive  jealousy  of  an  injured  Spanish 
beauty.  After  a  short  prelude  of  gloom  and 
obscure   explosions,   he   discharged  upon   his 

5  faithless  admirer  the  bolts  of  passionate  logic 
familiar  to  the  ears  of  flighty  caballeros: 
'Either  I  am  a  fit  object  of  your  admiration, 
or  I  am  not.  Of  these  things,  one:  either  you 
are  competent  to  judge,  in  which  case  I  stand 

10  condemned  by  you;  or  you  are  incompetent, 
and  therefore  impertinent,  and  you  may  be- 
take yourself  to  your  country  again,  hypo- 
crite!' The  admirer  was  for  persuading  the 
wounded  scholar  that  it  is  given  to  us  to  be 

15  able  to  admire  two  professors  at  a  time.  He 
was  driven  forth. 

Perhaps  this  might  have  occurred  in  any 
country,  and  a  comedy  of  The  Pedant,  dis- 
covering   the    greedy    humanity    within    the 

2»  dusty  scholar,  would  not  bring  it  home  to 
one  in  particular.  I  am  mindful  that  it  was 
in  Germany,  when  I  observe  that  the  Ger- 
mans have  gone  through  no  comic  training 
to  warn  them  of  the  sly,  wise  emanation  eye- 

2S  ing  them  from  aloft,  nor  much  of  satirical. 
Heinrich  Heine  has  not  been  enough  to  cause 
them  to  smart  and  meditate.  Nationally, 
as  well  as  individually,  when  they  are  ex- 


THE  COMIC  SPIRIT  151 

cited  they  are  in  danger  of  the  grotesque; 
as  when,  for  instance,  they  decline  to  listen 
U)  evidence,  and  raise  a  national  outcry  be- 
cause one  of  German  blood  has  been  con- 
victed of  crime  in  a  foreign  country.  They  5 
are  acute  critics,  yet  they  still  wield  clubs  in 
controversy.  Compare  them  in  this  respect 
with  the  people  schooled  in  La  Bruyere,  La 
Fontaine,  Moliere;  with  the  people  who  have 
the  figures  of  a  Trissotin  and  a  Vadius  before  lo 
them  for  a  comic  warning  of  the  personal 
vanities  of  the  caressed  professor.  It  is  more 
than  difference  of  race.  It  is  the  difference 
of  traditions,  temper,  and  style,  which  comes 
of  schooling.  15 

The  French  controversialist  is  a  polished 
swordsman,  to  be  dreaded  in  his  graces  and 
courtesies.  The  German  is  Orson,  or  the 
mob,  or  a  marching  army,  in  defence  of  a 
good  case  or  a  bad — a  big  or  a  little.  His  20 
irony  is  a  missile  of  terrific  tonnage;  sarcasm 
he  emits  like  a  blast  from  a  dragon's  mouth. 
He  must  and  will  be  Titan.  He  stamps  his 
foe  underfoot,  and  is  astonished  that  the 
creature  is  not  dead,  .but  stinging;  for,  in  25 
truth,  the  Titan  is  contending,  by  compari- 
son, with. a  god. 

When  the  Germans  lie  on  their  arms,  look- 


152       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

ing  across  the  Alsatian  frontier  at  the  crowds 
of  Frenchmen  rushing  to  applaud  L'Ami 
Fritz  at  the  Theatre  Frangais,  looking  and 
considering  the  meaning  of  that  applause, 
5  which  is  grimly  comic  in  its  political  response 
to  the  domestic  moral  of  the  play — when  the 
Germans  watch  and  are  silent,  their  force  of 
character  tells.  They  are  kings  in  music,  we 
may  say  princes  in  poetry,  good  speculators 

10  in  philosophy,  and  our  leaders  in  scholarship. 
That  so  gifted  a  race,  possessed,  moreover, 
of  the  stern  good  sense  which  collects  the 
waters  of  laughter  to  make  the  wells,  should 
show  at  a  disadvantage,  I  hold  for  a  proof, 

15  instructive  to  us,  that  the  discipline  of  the 
Comic  Spirit  is  needful  to  their  growth.  We 
see  what  they  can  reach  to  in  that  great  figure 
of  modern  manhood,  Goethe.  They  are  a 
growing  people;  they  are  conversable  as  well; 

20  and  when  their  men,  as  in  France,  and  at 
intervals  at  Berlin  tea-tables,  consent  to  talk 
on  equal  terms  with  their  women,  and  to  listen 
to  them,  their  growth  will  be  accelerated  and  be 
shapelier.    Comedy,  or,  in  any  form,  the  Comic 

25  Spirit,  will  then  come  to  them  to  cut  some 
figures  out  of  the  block,  show  them  the  mirror, 
enliven  and  irradiate  the  social  intelligence. 
Modern  French  comedy  is  commendable 


THE  COMIC  SPIRIT  153 

for  the  directness  of  tlie  study  of  actual  life,    - 
as  far  as  that  (which  is  but  the  early  step  in 
such  a  scholarship)  can  be  of  service  in  com- 
posing and  coloring  the  picture.     A  conse- 
quence   of    this    crude,    though    well-meant,     5 
realism  is  the  collision  of  the  writers  in  their 
scenes  and  incidents,  and  in  their  characters. 
The  Muse  of  most  of  them  is  an  Aventuriere. 
She  is  clever,  and  a  certain  diversion  exists 
in   the   united   scheme   for   confounding  her.    10 
The  object  of  this  person  is  to  reinstate  her- 
self in  the  decorous  world;  and  either,  having 
accomplished  this  purpose  tlirough  deceit,  she 
has  a  nostalgie  de  la  boue    that    eventually 
casts  her  back  into  it,  or  she  is  exposed  in    is 
her  course  of  deception  when  she  is  about  to 
gain  her  end.     A  very  good,  innocent  young 
man  is  her  victim,  or  a  very  astute,  goodish 
young  man  obstructs  her  path.     This  latter 
is  enabled  to  be  the  champion  of  the  decorous   20 
world  by  knowing  the  indecorous  well.     He 
has   assisted  in  the  progress  of  aventurieres 
downward;   he  will  not  help  them  to  ascend. 
The  world  is  with  him;    and  certainly  it  is 
not   much  of   an   ascension   they   aspire   to;   25 
but  what  sort  of  a  figure  is  he .''    The  triumph 
of  a  candid  realism  is  to  show  him  no  hero. 
You  are  to  admire  him  (for  it  must  be  sup- 


154       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

posed  that  realism  pretends  to  waken  some 
admiration)  as  a  credibly  living  young  man; 
no  better,  only  a  little  firmer  and  shrewder, 
than  the  rest.    If,  however,  you  think  at  all, 

5  after  the  curtain  has  fallen,  you  are  likely  to 
think  that  the  aventurieres  have  a  case  to  plead 
against  him.  True,  and  the  author  has  not 
said  anything  to  the  contrary;  he  has  but 
painted  from  the  life;  he  leaves  his  audience  to 

10  the  reflections  of  unphilosophic  minds  upon 
life,  from  the  specimen  he  has  presented  in 
the  bright  and  narrow  circle  of  a  spy-glass. 

I  do  not  know  that  the  fly  in  amber  is  of 
any  particular  use,  but  the  comic  idea  en- 

15  closed  in  a  comedy  makes  it  more  generally 
perceptible  and  portable,  and  that  is  an  ad- 
vantage. There  is  a  benefit  to  men  in  taking 
the  lessons  of  comedy  in  congregations,  for 
it  enlivens  the  wits;  and  to  writers  it  is  bene- 

20  ficial,  for  they  must  have  a  clear  scheme,  and 
even  if  they  have  no  idea  to  present,  they 
must  prove  that  they  have  made  the  public 
sit  to  them  before  the  sitting,  to  see  the  pic- 
ture.    And  writing  for  the  stage  would   be 

25  a  corrective  of  a  too-incrusted  scholarly  style, 
into  which  some  great  ones  fall  at  times.  It 
keeps  minor  writers  to  a  definite  plan,  and 
to  English.     Many  of  them  now  swelling  a 


THE  COMIC  SPIRIT  155 

pleihoric  market  in  the  composition  of  novels, 
in  pun-manufactories,  and  in  journalism — 
attached  to  the  machinery  forcing  perishable 
matter  on  a  public  that  swallows  voraciously 
and  groans — might,  with  encouragement,  be  5 
attending  to  the  study  of  art  in  literature- 
Our  critics  appear  to  be  fascinated  by  the 
quaintness  of  our  public,  as  the  world  is  when 
our  beast-garden  has  a  new  importation  of 
magnitude,  and  the  creature's  appetite  Ls  lo 
reverently  consulted.  They  stipulate  for  a 
writer's  popularity  before  they  will  do  much 
more  than  take  the  position  of  umpires  to 
record  his  failure  or  success.  Now  the  pig 
suppUes  the  most  popular  of  dishes,  but  it  is  15 
not  accounted  the  most  honored  of  animals. 
unless  it  be  by  the  cottager.  Our  public 
might  surely  be  led  to  try  other,  perhaps 
finer,  meat.  It  has  good  taste  in  song.  It 
might  be  taught  as  justly,  on  the  whole  (and  20 
the  sooner  when  the  cottager's  view  of  the 
feast  shall  cease  to  be  the  humble  one  of  our 
literary  critics),  to  extend  this  capacity  for 
delicate  choosing  in  the  direction  of  the  matter 
arousing  laughter.  23 


VARIANT  READINGS 


VARIANT   READINGS 

The  present  text  follows  that  of  the  edition 
of  An  Essay  on  Coined y  and  the  Uses  of  the 
Comic  Spirit  publislied  by  Charles  Scribner's 
Sons,  New  York,  1905,  save  in  the  matter 
of  jjunctuation  and  capital  letters,  in  various 
j)oints  of  typography,  and  in  pagination; 
and  the  edition  of  New  York,  1905,  follows 
that  of  Archibald  Constable  and  Company, 
Westminster,  1897,  except  in  pagination. 
When  there  is  a  difference  in  the  wording 
between  the  present  text  and  the  Essay  as 
it  originally  appeared,  in  the  New  Quarterly 
Magazine,  April,  1877,  I  give,  in  the  follow- 
ing list,  first  the  present  reading,  and  then 
ihe  reading  of  1877  in  quotation-marks.  Dif- 
ferences in  the  wording  of  the  Edition  de 
Luxe  of  1898  are  also  recorded.  Attention 
is  called  in  the  Notes  to  cases  in  which  I 
have  rectified  Meredith's  quotations  from 
other  authors. 

78  25.     An  eminent  Frenchman  judges, 
1877:    'An  eminent  Frenchman,  M.  Littre, 
judges/ 

159 


160        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

81  23-24.     to  the  joy  of  the  Bacchanalians. 

1877:  'much  to  the  joy  of  the  Bacchana- 
lians.* 

83  1-3.  Ego  limis  specto  sic  per  flabellum 
clanculum. — Terence. 

In  1877  this  was  a  footnote. 

85  8.     neither,  with  all  its  realism, 
1877:   'neither,  with  all  the  reahsm,' 

85  20-21.     He  did  not  paint  in  raw  realism. 
1877:    'But  he  did  not  paint  in  raw  real- 
ism.' 

86  16-17.  literary  comedies  passingly 
pleasant  to  read, 

1877:   'literary  comedies  pleasant  to  read,' 

87  1-3.  he  would  be  comic,  as  Panurge 
is  comic,  but  only  a  Rabelais  could  set  him 
moving  with  real  animation. 

1877:  'it  should  be  comic,  as  Panurge  is 
comic' 

87  5-6.     If  we  have  lost  our  youthful  relish 
1877:    'but   if  we  have  lost  our  youthful 

relish ' 

88  4-5.  subjects  of  a  special  study  in  the 
poetically  comic. 

1877:  'subjects  of  a  special  study  in  the 
comic' 


VARIANT  READINGS  161 

88  10-11.     Had  Shakespeare  lived 
1877:   'Had  he  lived' 

88  17-19.  to  the  composition  of  romantic 
comedy.  He  certainly  inspired  that  fine 
genius. 

1877:  'to  the  composition  of  romantic 
comedy. ' 

93  8.     The  heroines  of  comedy  are  like 
1877:     'No,   the   heroines  of  comedy  are, 
like' 

93  17-18.  the  gradual  similarity  of  their 
impressions 

1877:   'the  similarity  of  their  impressions' 

95  2.     and  may  be  tracked  into 
1877:   'and  may  be  traced  into' 

95  26-96  10-11.  vigor  of  conception.  Scene 
.5,  Act  2,  of  the  Misanthrope,  [etc.]  .  .  .  tend- 
ing to  do  disservice.     Comedy  justly  treated, 

1877:  'vigor  of  conception.  But  comedy 
justly  treated,' 

97  7  (see  note,  p.  211)       Veux-tu  toute  ta 

1877:  'Veux-tu  toute  la  vie' 
1897:  'Veux-tu  toute  la  vie' 
1898  (Edition  de  Luxe):  'Veux-tu  toute  ta 


162       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

100  5. — ^By  evident  preparation. 
1877:    'Palpably,  and  by  evident  prepara- 
tion.' 

100  14-16.  correct  judgment,  a  correct  ear, 
readiness  of  illustration 

1877:  'correct  judgment,  a  correct  ear,  and 
readiness  of  illustration' 

102  16-17.  and  a  type  of  the  superior 
ladies  who  do  not  think, 

1877:  'and  a  t^pe  of  the  ladies  who  do  not 
think,' 

102  18-19.  it  is  a  lower  class,  in  the  pro- 
portion 

1877:  'it  is  an  inferior  class,  in  the  propor- 
tion' 

107  10-14.  He  satirized  a  certain  Thais, 
and  his  Thais  of  the  Eunuchics  of  Terence  is 
neither  professionally  attractive  nor  repul- 
sive; his  picture  of  the  two  Andrians,  Chrj^sis 
and  her  sister, 

1877:  'he  satirized  a  certain  Thais,  but  his 
Thais  of  the  Eunuchus  of  Terence  is  neither 
professionally  attractive  nor  repulsive,  and 
his  picture  of  the  two  Andrians,  Chrysidis  and 
her  sister,' 


VARIANT  READINGS  163 

107  15-17.  But  the  condition  of  honest 
women  in  his  day  did  not  permit  of  the  free- 
dom 

1877:  'But  the  condition  of  honest  women 
in  his  day  did  not  conceive  of  the  freedom ' 

107  24-108  5.  has  not,  apparently,  given  us 
the  best  of  the  friend  of  Epicurus.  Mia-oifxevoi, 
the  lover  taken  in  horror,  [etc.]  .  .  .  frag- 
ments indicate. 

Of  the  six  comedies 

1877:    'has  not   apparently   given    us   the 
best  of  the  friend  of  Epicurus. 
'Of  the  six  comedies' 

108  20-21.  for  Menander's  plays  are 
counted  by  many  scores, 

1877:  'for  Menander's  plays  are  counted 
by  hundreds,' 

113  11-15.  colere. 

'And  to  have  killed  it  too  wrathfully'! 
Translating  Moliere  is  like  humming  an  air 
one  has  heard  performed  by  an  accomplished 
violinist  of  the  pure  tones  without  flourish. 

Orgon  awakening 

Tfie  Works  of  George  Meredith  (Edition  de 
Luxe),  Volume  32,  Westminster,  1898,  p.  41: 

'colere. 
'Orgon  awakening' 


164        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

114  4-8.  Frate  Timoteo  has  a  fine  Italian 
priestly  pose: 

DONNA.  Credete  voi,  che  '1  Turco  passi 
questo  anno  in  Italia  .f* 

FRATE  TIMOTEO.  Se  voi  non  fate  orazione, 
si. 

In  1877  this  passage  constituted  a  footnote, 
its  place  in  the  text  being  taken  by  the  sen- 
t«ice:  'Native  Italian  comedy  did  not  ad- 
vance beyond  the  state  of  satire,  and  the 
priests  were  the  principal  objects  of  it.' 

117  21-22.     with  aflFected  humility  of 
1877:  'with  deep  humihty  of 

119  17-18.  But  the  first-bom  of  common 
sense, 

1877:  'But  that  first-born  of  common 
s(Mse,' 

122  14-16.  And  it  really  may  be  humor- 
ous, of  a  kind ;  yet  it  will  miss  the  point 

1877:  'And  it  really  may  be  humorous,  yet 
it  will  miss  the  point' 

122  19-21.  He  had  been  the  venerable 
Due  Pasquier,  in  his  later  years,  up  to  the 
period  of  his  death. 

1877:  *  He  had  been  the  venerable  Duke 
Pasquier  up  to  the  period  of  his  death.' 


VARIANT  READINGS  165 

122  22-23.     a  man  of  profound  egoism. 
1877:   'a  man  of  profound  egotism.' 

122  27-28.  husband  their  strength  for  the 
sake  of  living  on. 

1877:  'husband  their  strength  for  the  mere 
sake  of  living  on.' 

125  24-28.  blowTi  away  before  they  were 
productive.  Where  would  pessimist  and 
optimist  be  ?  They  would  in  any  case  have  a 
•liminished  audience.  Yet  possibly  the  change 
of  despots, 

1877:  'blown  away  before  they  were  pro- 
ductive.   Yet  possibly  the  change  of  despots,' 

128  13-14.  and  dragged  forth  particular 
women,  which  he  did  not. 

1877:  'and  dragged  forth  women,  which  he 
did  not.' 

133  6-7.  with  asses'  ears  and  the  most 
beautiful  sylvan  haloes. 

1877:  'with  asses'  ears  and  the  most  beauti- 
ful of  sylvan  haloes.' 

134  10-11.     spare  him  as  little  as  you  shun, 
1877:  'spare  him  as  little  as  you  shun  him,* 

135  6-9.  his  humor.  (I  may  have 
dreamed  this,  or  had  it  suggested  to  me,  for. 


166        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

on  referring  to  Jonathan  Wild,  I  do  not  find 

it.)     Apply  the  case 

1877:   'liis  humor.    Apply  the  case' 
1898:   'his  humor.    Apply  the  case* 

136  G-7.  judged  by  philosophers,  he  is  a 
comic  figure  by  reason  of  this  deficiency. 

1877:  'judged  by  philosophers,  apart  from 
his  grandeur  as  a  poet,  he  is  a  comic  figure,  by 
reason  of  this  attribute.' 

137  23-24.  under  the  gorgeous  robes  of 
ceremonial. 

1877:  'under  the  gorgeous  robes  of  cere- 
monials.' 

141  20-21.  drawn  in  an  idle  wariness  of 
half-tension. 

1877:  'drawn  in  a  sort  of  idle  wariness  of 
half  tension.' 

147  1-2.  The  Misanthrope  and  the  Tar- 
iuffe  have  no  audible  laughter, 

1877:  'The  Misanthrope  and  the  Tartuffe 
have  no  audible  laugh,' 

153  8-10.  The  Muse  of  most  of  them  is 
an  Aventuriere.  She  is  clever,  and  a  certain 
diversion  exists  in  the  united  scheme  for  con- 
founding her. 

1877:  'The  Muse  of  all  of  them  is  an  Aven- 
turiere.   She  is  clever,  and  a  certain  diversity 


VARIANT  READINGS  167 

exists  in  the  united  scheme  for  confounding 
her.' 

154  12-13.     circle  of  a  spy-glass. 

I  do  not  know  that  the  fly  in  amber 

1877:   'circle  of  a  spy-glass. 

'This  is  the  comedy  we  are  now  importing. 
French  farces  are  very  funny  and  altogether 
preferable.  The  names  of  English  writers  for 
the  stage  who  have  ability  to  produce  good 
original  work  will  occur  to  you.  In  a  review 
of  our  modern  comedies,  those  of  the  late  Mr. 
Robertson  would  deserve  honorable  mention. 
Mr.  Tom  Taylor  can  write  excellent  dialogue. 
Mr.  Gilbert,  if  he  could  look  with  less  con- 
tempt at  the  present  condition  of  the  pubhc 
taste,  would  write  well-considered  comic  plays 
of  his  own.  Mr.  Burnand  has  hints  of  comedy 
in  his  most  extravagant  pieces.  I  do  not 
know  that  the  fly  in  amber' 

155  21-22.  when  the  cottager's  view  of 
the  feast  shall  cease  to  be 

1877:  'when  the  cottager's  view  of  a  feast 
shall  cease  to  be' 

155  23-25.  extend  tliis  capacity  for  deli- 
cate choosing  in  the  direction  of  the  matter 
arousing  laughter. 

1877:  'extend  this  capacity  for  delicate 
choosing  to  the  matter  arousing  laughter.' 


NOTES 


NOTES 

75  (title).  In  the  edition  of  1897  there  is 
a  reference  from  the  title  to  Meredith's 
footnote:  'A  lecture  delivered  at  the  Lon- 
don Institution,  February  1st,  1877,  and 
afterward  published  in  The  Neiv  Quarterly 
Magazine  for  April,  1877.'  The  London 
Institution  for  the  Advancement  of  Litera- 
ture and  the  Diffusion  of  Useful  Knowledge, 
now  at  Finsbury  Circus,  London,  began  its 
activities  in  the  year  1800,  the  founders  having 
met  on  May  23,  1805,  with  the  object  of  pro- 
moting, through  ample  subscriptions,  the 
study  of  British  history,  literature,  and  biog- 
raphy, and,  secondarily,  of  the  natural  and 
mathematical  sciences.  A  useful  library  had 
l>een  formed  several  years  before  lectures 
were  inaugurated  in  1819.  Among  the  early 
lecturers  were:  Spurzheim,  on  Phrenology, 
182G;  Faraday,  1827;  Samuel  Wesley,  Vocal 
Music,  1828;  James  Montgomery,  A  Retro- 
spect of  the  History  of  Literature,  1831; 
James  Sheridan  Knowles,  Dramatic  Poetry, 
171 


172        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

1832;  Basil  Montagu,  The  Philosophy  of 
Laughter,  1832,  1833;  Charles  Cowden 
Clarke,  The  Poetry  of  the  Prose  Writers  of 
England,  and  The  Ancient  Ballads  of  Eng- 
land, 1835.  See  A  Catalogue  of  the  Library 
of  the  London  Institution  .  .  .  preceded  by 
an  Historical  and  Bibliographical  Account 
of  the  Establishment.  London,  1835.  In 
1911  the  Library  contained  100,000  volumes. 
75  9.  the  ordeal  of  the  mantle.  See  the 
ballad  of  The  Boy  and  the  Mantle  in  Percy's 
Rdiques  of  Ancient  English  Poetry  (ed.  Wheat- 
ley,  1910,  3.3-12).  This  is  No.  29  in  Child, 
The  English  and  Scottish  Ballads  (1.271  ff.). 
A  boy  visits  the  Court  of  King  Arthur,  bring- 
ing a  mantle  which  will  exactly  fit  a  wife 
who  has  been  faithful,  and  will  betray  one 
who  has  been  unfaithful. 

Stanzas  9-11  (Child): 

Forth  came  dame  Gueneuer, 

to  the  mantle  slice  her  bed; 
The  ladye  shee  was  new-fangle, 

but  yett  shee  was  affrayd. 

Wlien  shee  had  taken  the  mantle, 
shee  stoode  as  she  had  beene  madd ; 

It  was  from  the  top  to  the  toe 
as  sheeres  had  itt  shread. 


NOTES  173 

One  while  was  itt  gaule, 

another  while  was  itt  greene; 

Another  while  was  itt  wadded; 
ill  itt  did  her  beseeme. 

Stanza  13: 

Shee  threw  downe  the  mantle, 

that  bright  was  of  blee, 
Fast  with  a  rudd  redd 

to  her  chamber  can  shee  flee. 

Sir  Kay's  lady  is  equally  or  more  unfor- 
tunate. 

Stanza  19: 

Then  euery  knight 

that  was  in  the  kings  court 
Talked,  laughed,  and  showted, 

full  oft  att  that  sport. 

Cradock's  lady  is  more  successful:  the  gar- 
ment merely  wrinkles  and  draws  up  at  her 
great  toe.  Whereupon  she  confesses  that  she 
had  kissed  Cradock  before  she  married  him, 
and  then 

The  mantle  stoode  about  her 
right  as  shee  wold. 

75  13-14.  A  society  of  cultivated  men 
and  women.  In  Meredith's  opinion  the 
conditions   have  been   met  at  the  Court  of 


174       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

Louis  XIV  of  France,  and,  less  fully,  in 
Elizabethan  England  and  in  the  age  of  Aris- 
tophanes. But  his  beUef  that  Athenian 
women  were  present  in  the  theatre  when  tlie 
comedies  of  Aristophanes  were  presented  is 
open  to  question.    See  note  on  78  27-28. 

76  7-8.  a  startling  exhibition  of  the 
dyer's  hand.  Compare  Shakespeare,  Son- 
net 111.6-7: 

And  almost  thence  my  nature  is  subdued 
To  what  it  works  in,  like  the  dyer's  hand. 

76  17-18.  C'est  une  etrange  entreprise 
que  celle  de  faire  rire  les  honnetes  gens. 

*It  is  a  strange  undertaking,  that,  of  making 
good  people  laugh.' — From  the  speech  of  Do- 
rante  in  Scene  7  of  Moliere's  one-act  play. 
La  Critique  de  I'Ecole  des  Femmes. 

76  24-25.  men  whom  Rabelais  would 
call  'agelasts.'  Doubtless  Meredith  uses 
this  word  from  Rabelais  (c  1490-1553)  be- 
cause he  has  recently  seen  it  in  an  article  to 
wliich  he  shortly  alludes  (78  25),  AristopJiane 
et  Rabelais,  by  the  French  lexicographer 
Littre.  Compare  the  following  passage 
(E.  Littre,  Litterature  et  Ilistoire,  second 
edition,  1877,  p.  173):  'Et,  si  Von  est  Rabelais, 
on  s'enveloppera  des  conceptions  les  plus  fan- 


NOTES  175 

tasques,  des  railleries  les  plus  fines,  et  des  gatdoi- 
series  les  plus  grossieres;  car,  s'il  en  veut  aux 
paiepelus  et  aux  porteurs  de  rogatons,  U  en  veut 
aussi  aux  agelastes,  c' est-d-dire  d  cetix  qui  ne 
rient  pas.'  ('And,  if  you  are  Rabelais,  you  will 
disguise  yourself  with  the  most  fantastic  con- 
ceptions, the  most  delicate  raillery,  the  most 
vulgar  of  vernacular  phrases;  for,  if  he  had  an 
animus  against  the  sycophants  and  news- 
mongers, he  likewise  had  one  against  the 
agclasts — that  is,  against  those  who  do  not 
laugh.') 

In  the  article  cited,  Littre  quotes  the 
first  of  the  two  passages  in  Pantagruel  where 
the  word  occurs  (Rabelais,  Oeuvres,ed.  Jannet, 
1873,  4.10,  5.102).  The  first  is  (Pantagruel, 
Book  4,  Dedicatory  Epistle  to  Odet,  Cardinal 
de  Chastillon):  'Mais  la  calomnie  de  certains 
canihales,  misanthropes,  agelastes,  avoit  taut 
coidre  inoy  estS  atroce  et  desraisonnee,  quelle 
avoit  vaincu  ma  patience.'  ('But  the  calumny 
of  certain  cannibals,  misanthropes,  non-laugh- 
ers, had  been  so  fierce  and  insensate  against 
me  that  it  had  conquered  my  patience.') 

The  second  is  (Book  5,  chapter  25) : '//  nefut 
onques  tant  severe  Caton,  ne  Crassus  I'ayeul  taut 
agelaste,  ne  Timon  Athenien  tant  misanthrope, 
ne  Heraclitus  tant  abhorrant  du  propre  humain. 


176       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

qui  est  rire,  qui  n'evM  perdu  conienance,  voyant 
au  son  de  la  musique  tant  soudaine,  en  einq  cens 
diversitez  si  soudain  se  mouvoir,  desmareher, 
sauUer,  voltiger,  gamhader,  toumoyer.'  ('Nor 
was  Cato  ever  so  severe,  nor  old  Crassus  such  a 
non-laugher,  nor  Athenian  Timon  so  misan- 
thropic, nor  HeracHtus  so  averse  from  the 
action  peculiar  to  man,  which  is  laughing,  that 
they  would  not  have  lost  their  gravity  at  the 
sight,  when,  at  the  sound  of  the  music  so  sud- 
den, [the  cavaliers,  queens,  and  nymphs]  so 
suddenly  moved  in  five  different  directions, 
deployed,  jumped,  leaped  up,  skipped,  twisted 
about.') 

Rabelais  forms  agelaste,  agelastes  ('never- 
laughing'),  after  the  Greek  word  dfiKaaros 
('not  laughing,'  'grave,'  'gloomy'),  which  oc- 
curs in  the  Homeric  Hymn  to  Ceres  (line  200) 
and  in  Aeschylus  {Agaviemnon  794), 

76  27-28.  which,  if  you  prick  them,  do 
not  bleed.  Compare  Shakespeare,  Merchant 
of  Venice  3.1.67-68:  'If  you  prick  us,  do  we 
not  bleed?  If  you  tickle  us,  do  we  not 
laugh.'' ' 

77  6.  agelastic.  'One  that  never  laughs'; 
so  Henry  Cockeram,  The  English  Dictionarie, 
or  a  New  Interpreter  of  Hard  English  Words 
(1623),  second  edition,  1626. 


NOTES  177 

77  6-7.  misogelastic,  and  the  fuffSyeXta^, 
the  laughter-hating.  'Misogelastic,'  and 
similarly  ' hj-pergelasts '  (77  11-12),  seem  to 
be  the  coinage  of  Meredith,  or  at  all  events 
not  to  be  derived  from  either  Rabelais  or 
Aristophanes.  For  nurSyeXwi  see  Aulus  Gellius, 
ed.  Hosius  (1903),  15.20:  'Alexander  auiem 
Aelolus  hos  de  Euripide  versus  composuit: 

6   5'    ^Ava^ayopov   Tp60:juos   x^'O''   ffrpKpvhi  p.kv 

tfunye  irpofffiireTv 
Ktti  pua-6ye\ii)s  Kal  rudd^eiv  oiiSi  irap'   olvov 

fiepMd-ijKwi, 
dXX'  6  Ti  7pdf  at,  toOt'  Slv  p.fKiTOi  Kal  Seipiji'wi' 

frerevxet.' 

Compare  Aulus  Gellius,  translated  by  W. 
Beloe  (1795),  3.179:  'And  Alexander  Aetolus 
wrote  these  lines  on  Euripides: 

Although  thy  pupil,  Anaxagoras, 

Doth  for  a  grave  and  churlish  peasant  pass. 

Let  him  but  write,  and  quickly  you  shall 

know 
What  honied  strains  from  chanting  sirens 

flow.' 

77  12-13.  the  excessive  laughers,  .  .  . 
who  are  as  clappers  of. a  bell.  Shakespeare 
makes  Don  Pedro  say  of  Benedick  {Much 
Ado  3.2.8-13):  'From  the  crown  of  his  head 
to  the  sole  of  his  foot,  he  is  all  mirth.  ...    He 


178       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

hath  a  heart  as  sound  as  a  bell,  and  his  tongue 
is  the  clapper;  for  what  his  heart  thinks  his 
tongue  speaks.' 

77  17.  C'est  n' estimer  rien  qu'estimer 
tout  le  monde.    M.o\ieTe,  Misanthrope  1,1.58. 

77  22.  The  Rape  of  the  Lock.  See  Ed- 
ward Bensly  in  the  Cambridge  History  of  Eng- 
lish Literature  (9 .  78) :  '  Young  Lord  Petre,  by 
snipping  a  lock  of  Miss  Fermor's  hair,  had 
caused  ill-feeling  between  the  families.  Pope 
was  invited  by  his  friend  Caryll  to  allay  this 
by  taking  the  theme  for  a  playful  poem.  The 
Rape  of  the  Lock,  in  its  first  form,  was  written 
within  a  fortnight,  and  published  anony- 
mously in  Lintot's  Miscellajiy,  1712.  For  the 
genre  Pope  was  indebted  to  Boileau's  Lutrin, 
as  Boileau  had  been  to  Tassoni's  Secchia 
Rapita;  but  in  its  blending  of  mock-heroic, 
satire,  and  delicate  fancy,  this  exquisite  speci- 
men of  filigree  work,  as  Hazlitt  called  it,  re- 
mains unmatched.  Pope's  hand  was  never 
happier  than  in  adding  to  the  original  sketch 
his  machinery  of  sylphs  and  gnomes.' 

77  23.  Le  Tartufte.  Compare  the  title- 
page  of  the  first  edition:  Le  Tartuffe  ou  VIvi- 
posteur,  comSdie  de  J.-B.  P.  de  Moliere.  Im- 
primi  atix  dcspens  de  Vaxdheur,  et  se  vend  a 


NOTES  179 

Paris,  chez  Jean  Ribou,  au  Palais,  vis-a-vis 
de  Veglise  de  la  Sainte-Chapelle,  a  Vimage  S. 
Ijcniis.  1669.  {The  Tartuffe,  or  the  Impostor. 
A  Comedy  by  J.-B.  P.  de  Moliere.  Printed  at 
tlie  expense  of  the  author,  and  to  be  had  in 
Paris  of  Jean  Ribou,  at  the  Palace,  opposite 
the  church  of  the  Sainte-Chapelle,  by  the  im- 
age of  Saint  Louis.     1669.)     See  pp.  112-114. 

78  8-9.  Comedy  .  .  .  one  of  the  .  .  . 
Muses.  Strictly  speaking,  one  could  hardly 
term  comedy  a  'Muse.'  In  later  times,  the 
Greeks  regarded  Thalia  as  the  Muse  of  com- 
edy. 

78  10.  in  her  origin.  The  precise  origin 
of  ancient  classical  comedy  is  a  matter  of  dis- 
l>ute.  Aristotle  observes  tliat  the  invention  of 
comedy  was  claimed  by  the  Dorians  of  Me- 
gara,  and  likewise  by  the  Dorians  of  Sicily;  he 
adds  that  at  all  events  comedy  originated  in 
the  improvisations  of  the  leaders  in  the  Phallic 
song  and  dance,  noting  that  the  custom  of  the 
Phallic  procession  has  been  preserved  up  to  his 
time  in  many  cities.  See  his  Poetics,  chapters 
3,  4  {Aristotle  On  the  Art  of  Poetry,  tr.  Cooper, 
pp.  8,  9,  12).  The  Phallic  procession  was  as- 
sociated with  the  worship  of  Dionysus.  In 
The  Origin  of  Attic  Comedy,  London,  1914, 
F.  M.  Cornford  argues  from  a  study  of  Aris- 


180       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

tophanes  that  the  type  arose  from  a  marriage 
ritual,  in  which  the  risen  god  Dionysus  typified 
the  revival  of  vegetation  when  the  winter  is 
past  (he  being  the  fructifying  principle),  and 
which  simulated  'the  union  of  Heaven  and 
Earth  for  the  renewal  of  all  life  in  Spring.' 

78  12.  The  light  of  Athene  over  the 
head  of  Achilles.  See  Hiad  18.203-227;  in 
the  translation  of  Lang,  Leaf,  and  Myers: 
'But  Achilles  dear  to  Zeus  arose,  and  around 
his  strong  shoulders  Athene  cast  her  tasseled 
aegis,  and  around  his  head  the  bright  goddess 
set  a  crown  of  a  golden  cloud,  and  kindled 
therefrom  a  blazing  flame.  .  .  .  Thus  from  the 
head  of  Achilles  soared  that  blaze  toward  the 
heavens.  And  he  went  and  stood  beyond  the 
wall  beside  the  trench.  .  .  .  There  stood  he 
and  shouted  aloud,  and  afar  off  Pallas  Athene 
uttered  her  voice,  and  spread  terror  unspeak- 
able among  the  men  of  Troy.  .  .  .  And  the 
charioteers  were  amazed  when  they  saw  the 
unwearying  fire  blaze  fierce  on  the  head  of  the 
great-hearted  son  of  Peleus,  for  the  bright- 
eyed  goddess  Athene  made  it  blaze.' 

78  13.     the     birth     of     Greek    tragedy. 

Meredith  would  suggest  that  ancient  tragedy 
began  witli  the  Iliad,  and  the  notion  agrees 


NOTES  181 

with  that  of  Aristotle  in  the  Poetics,  chapter 
4  (see  my  translation,  p.  12,  and  Index  s.  v. 
'IHad').  Yet  according  to  Aristotle  {ibid.,  p. 
1'-^),  tragedy  proper,  as  distinguished  from 
tragic  tales  in  general,  goes  back  to  the  im- 
provisations of  the  poet-leaders  in  the  dithy- 
rambic  chorus  of  satyrs.  Consequently  the 
origin  of  tragedy,  hke  that  of  comedy,  may 
he  traced  to  the  cult  of  Dionysus.  In  the 
current  theory  of  its  evolution,  tragedy  arose 
in  the  ritual  of  the  dying  god,  which  typi- 
fied the  death  of  the  year,  and  of  vegetation, 
in  the  winter  season.  (See  William  Ridge- 
way,  The  Origin  of  Tragedy,  CsLinhndge,  1910.) 

78  15.  Son  of  the  Wine-jar  .  .  .  Dio- 
nysus.   See  Aristophanes,  Frogs  22: 

8r'  iy<l}  fj.iv  wv  \i6vv<ros,  vlbs  liTafj-vlov. 

('When  I,  who  am  Dionysus,  son  of — Wine- 
jar.')  The  comic  effect  arises  from  the  sub- 
stitution of  'W^ine-jar,'  when  the  expected 
phrase  would  be  'Son  of  Zeus,'  or  the  like. 

78  17-18.  Our  second  Charles  ...  of 
like  benignity.  Compare  Addison's  account 
of  the  dramatist  D'Urfey,  in  the  Guardian  for 
May  28,  1713:  'I  myself  remember  King 
Charles  the  Second  leaning  on  Tom  D'Urfey's 
shoulder  more  than  once,  and  humming  over  a 


182       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

song  with  him.  It  is  certain  that  monarch 
was  not  a  Uttle  supported  by  Joy  to  Great 
Caesar,  which  gave  the  Whigs  such  a  blow  as 
they  were  not  able  to  recover  that  whole 
reign.* 

78  18-19.     our     Comedy     of     Manners. 

See  George  H.  Nettleton,  English  DraTna  of  the 
Restoration  and  Eighteenth  Century,  New  York, 
1914,  chapters  5-8,  pp.  71-140;  Alexandre 
Beljame,  Le  Public  et  les  Hommes  de  Lettres  en 
Angleterre  au  Dix-huitieme  SiMe,  Paris,  1897, 
pp.  29-35,  48-56;  Cambridge  History  of  Eng- 
lish Literature  8.131-201.  And  compare  note 
on  110  25-26. 

78  25,     An    eminent    Frenchman.      In 

1877  Meredith  was  more  specific,  adding:  'M. 
Littre.'  Maximilien  Paul  Emile  Littre  (1801- 
1881),  translator  of  Hippocrates,  author  of  the 
great  Dictionnaire  de  la  Langue  Frangaise, 
professor  of  history  and  geography,  states- 
man, positivist  and  friend  of  Comte — and 
hence  of  special  interest  to  Meredith.  He  was 
a  man  of  extraordinary  erudition  and  patience, 
and  no  mean  literary  critic.  The  work  to 
which  Meredith  here  alludes  has  been  cited 
above  (76  24-25);  I  translate  the  passage 
which  he  has  in  mind  (p.  152) :  'In  the  case  of 


NOTES  183 

Rabelais,  we  have  to  do  with  a  book,  held  in 
the  hand — and  the  reader  is  alone.  ...  In 
the  case  of  Aristophanes,  on  the  contrary,  we 
have  to  do  with  a  theatre.  An  immense  public 
is  assembled;  women  are  present;  the  gross 
words  fall  on  this  crowd,  which  laughs  and 
does  not  blush.  This  cynicism  of  the  public 
long  since  forced  me  to  abate  a  too  favorable 
opinion  as  to  the  level  of  Hellenic  develop- 
ment. In  the  sphere  of  morals  all  things  are 
interrelated ;  and  there  cannot  have  been  much 
delicacy  elsewhere  when  there  was  so  Uttle 
here.  ['Tout  se  tient  dans  les  choses  morales;  et 
il  ne  se  peut  quil  y  ait  beaucoup  de  dSlicatesse 
dans  le  rcste,  quand  U  y  en  avail  si  pen  en 
ceci.^]  My  observation  is  immediately  con- 
firmed in  the  sixteenth  century,  which  took 
such  delight  in  obscenity  both  at  the  theatre 
and  in  books,  and  which  so  readily  united 
violence,  perfidy,  and  cruelty.' 

78  27-28.  men  and  women  who  sat 
through  an  Athenian  comic  play.  That 
women  were  present  at  these  performances 
is  maintained  by  A.  E.  Haigh,  The  Attic 
Theatre,  Third  Edition,  revised  and  in  part 
rewritten  by  A.  W.  Pickard -Cambridge,  Ox- 
ford. 1907,  chapter  7,  pp.  324-329.  It  is  dis- 
puted by  B.  B.  Rogers  in  his  edition  of  the 


184        THE  IDEA  OF  COIVIEDY 

Ecclesiazusae  of  Aristophanes,  Introduction, 
pp.  xxix-xxxv.  Rogers  would  seem  to  have 
the  better  of  the  argument. 

79  5—6.  plain-speaking  .  .  .  festival  of 
the  god.  With  this  and  subsequent  remarks 
of  Meredith  on  Attic  comedy  compare  Aris- 
tophanes, Acharnians  490  ff.  (tr.  B.  B.  Rog- 
ers); Alfred  and  Maurice  Croiset,  Histoire  de 
la  Litterature  Grecque  3.465-472;  Maurice 
Croiset,  Aristophanes  and  the  Political  Par- 
ties at  Athens,  tr.  James  Loeb. 

79  13.  Wycherley's  Country  Wife.  Wil- 
liam Wycherley  (1640.^-1716),  for  some  years 
'the  central  figure  of  Restoration  comedy,' 
in  The  Country  Wife  (1673.'')  'reveals  at  once 
perhaps  the  height  of  his  dramatic  power  and 
the  depth  of  his  moral  degradation.  Bor- 
rowing from  Moliere's  VEcole  des  Femmes 
sometliing  of  the  general  situation  for  his  main 
plot,  he  transformed  the  real  ingenue  Agnes 
into  Mrs,  Pinchwife,  whose  nominal  purity  at 
the  outset  is  due  to  lack  of  opportunity  to  sin. 
The  progress  of  her  corruption  when  she  is 
transferred  from  the  country  to  the  fashion- 
able world  of  London  is  detailed  without  sym- 
pathy either  for  the  degraded  wife  or  for  the 
dishonored  husband.    Homer,  who  prosecutes 


NOTES  185 

his  vices  through  an  assumption  perhaps  the 
most  atrocious  in  all  Restoration  comedy,  is 
Wycherley's  real  hero.  Ingenuity  is  prosti- 
tuted in  the  service  of  animal  license.  .  .  . 
And  when,  at  the  end  of  the  play,  Pinchwife 
remains  unconscious  of  the  ruin  wrought,  and 
the  curtain  falls  to  a  mocking  dance  of  cuck- 
olds, one  sees  the  gulf  between  even  the  lowest 
decadence  of  Elizabethan  drama  and  what  the 
Restoration  age  termed  "comedy."  '  (Nettle- 
ton,  English  Drama  of  the  Restoration,  pp.  78- 
80.) 

79  18-21.  anti-papists  ,  .  .  Smithfield 
.  .  .  lowing  herds.  Smithfield  (otherwise 
'Smootlifield'),  an  historic  cattle-market  in 
London,  mentioned  in  1150,  has  since  1868 
been  the  seat  of  the  Central  Meat  Market, 
London,  covering  more  than  three  acres.  In 
the  twelfth  century,  Smootlifield,  lying  out- 
side the  city  walls,  served  as  an  open  play- 
ground and  promenade.  The  spot  is  associ- 
ated with  public  executions,  and  in  particular 
with  the  cruel  persecutions  of  the  Protestants 
in  the  reign  of  Queen  Mary  the  Catholic. 
Here  on  October  16,  1555,  Ridley  and  Latimer, 
and  on  March  21,  1556,  Cranmer,  were  burnt 
at  the  stake.  About  300  are  said  to  have  been 
burnt  in  this  persecution. 


186       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

80  7.  as  Pascal  says.  Meredith  mis- 
quotes him:  'Corrnne  un  point  fixe  fait  re- 
marquer  remportement  des  autres.'  I  have  re- 
stored the  words  of  Pascal  in  the  text,  and  here 
subjoin  the  passage  with  its  context  (Pascal, 
Pensees,  ed.  Brunschwicg,  1904,  2.291-292 
— Brunschwicg,  No.  382;  Havet,  section  6, 
No.  24) :  'Quand  tout  se  reviue  igalement,  rien  ne 
se  remue  en  apparence,  comme  en  tax  vaisseaxi. 
Quand  tou^s  vont  vers  le  debordement,  nul  n'y 
setnble  alter;  celui  qui  s'arrete  fait  remarquer 
Vemportement  des  aidres,  comme  un  point 
fixe.'  ('When  everything  is  equally  in  mo- 
tion, apparently  nothing  moves — as  on  ship- 
board. When  all  proceed  toward  disorder, 
no  one  seems  to  be  going  that  way;  he  who 
pauses  makes  evident  the  excess  of  all  the 
rest,  as  a  fixed  point.') 

80  11.  Hoyden.  See  the  comedy  of  Sir 
John  lVanbrugh,_^  architect  and  playwright. 
The  Relapse,  or  Virtue  in  Danger  (1696^pub. 
1G97)  4.1,  where  Miss  Hoyden  says  to  young 
Fashion:  'Sir,  I  never  disobey  my  father  in 
anything  but  eating  of  green  gooseberries.' 
The  Relapse  was  Adapted,  and  expurgated,  by 
Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan  in  A  Trip  to  Scar- 
borough (I777)r] 


NOTES  187 

80  20.  Dulness.  To  Meredith,  this  crea- 
ture of  the  imagination  is  male.  Yet  compare 
Pope,  Dunciad  1.9-16: 

In  eldest  time,  ere  mortals  writ  or  read. 
Ere  Pallas  issued  from  the  Thund'rer's  head, 
Dulness  o'er  all  p>ossessed  her  ancient  right. 
Daughter  of  Chaos  and  eternal  Night; 
Fate  in  their  dotage  this  fan*  idiot  gave. 
Gross  as  her  sire,  and  as  her  mother  grave. 
Laborious,  heavy,  busy,  bold,  and  bhnd. 
She  ruled,  in  native  Anarchy,  the  mind. 
Still  her  old  Empire  to  restore  she  tries. 
For,  born  a  Goddess,  Dulness  never  dies. 

And  see  the  note  to  Dunciad  1.12,  Pope 
and  Warburton,  1743:  'I  wonder  the  learned 
Scriblerus  has  omitted  to  advertise  the  reader, 
at  the  opening  of  this  poem,  that  Dulness  here 
is  not  to  be  taken  contractedly  for  mere 
stupidity,  but  in  the  enlarged  sense  of  the 
word,  for  all  slowness  of  apprehension,  short- 
ness of  sight,  or  imperfect  sense  of  things.' 

80  20-21.  dogs  on  the  Nile-banks. 
The  story  goes  back  to  Aelian  {Variae  His- 
toriae  1.4):  'And  that  habit  of  the  Egyptian 
dog  is  clever;  for  they  do  not  carelessly  and 
freely  take  one  continuous  drink  from  the 
river — bending  over  and  lapping  as  much  as 


188       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

they  crave, — since  they  suspect  the  animals  in 
it.  Instead,  they  run  along  the  bank,  again 
and  again  furtively  drinking  what  little  they 
can  snatch.  And  thus,  satisfying  themselves 
by  degrees,  they  manage  to  escape  destruc- 
tion, and  likewise  quench  their  thirst.'  See 
also  Phaedrus,  Fables  1.25,  and  Pliny,  Natural 
History  8.61;  and  compare  Jolm  Marston, 
The  Tragedy  of  Sofhonisha  3.1.    1.201-203: 

SYPHAX.     I'll  use  this  Zanthia, 
And  trust  her  as  our  dogs  drink  dangerous  Nile 
(Only  for  thirst),  that  fly  the  crocodile. 

81  1.  Mr.  Aimwell.  Aimwell,  a  char- 
acter in  The  Beaux'  Stratagem  (1707)  of  George 
Farquhar,  in  the  last  (fifth)  scene  of  the  last 
act  learns  that,  his  elder  brother  being  just 
dead,  he  is  now  Lord  Aimwell,  and  may  openly 
wed  Dorinda,  the  daughter  of  Lady  Bountiful. 

81  10-11.  follow  up  the  shot  ...  by 
hurling  the  pistol  after  it.  This  sounds 
like  the  humor  of  Punch;  two  of  the  editors  of 
Punch,  Taylor  and  Burnand,  were  among 
Meredith's  friends  (see  note  on  154  12,  and 
The  Letters  of  George  Meredith,  1912,  Index) 
Compare  Boswell's  Johnson  (Oxford  Edition 
1.398;  cf.  2.537):  'There  is  no  arguing  with 
Johnson;  for  when  his  pistol  misses  fire,  he 


NOTES  189 

knocks  you  down  with  the  butt  end  of  it.' 
Boswell  says  the  conceit  is  adapted  from  one 
i)f  Gibber's  comedies,  but  Birkbeck  Hill  in 
his  edition  of  Boswell  does  not  identify  the 
source. 

81  26-27.     the    cavalier    in    the    Mall. 

The  Mall,  a  walk  lx>rdered  by  trees,  in  St. 
James'  Park,  London,  was  a  fashionable 
promenade  in  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth 
f-enturies — originally  an  alley  where  the  game 
of  mall,  involving  the  use  of  ball  and  mallet, 
was  played.  Compare  The  Mall,  or  tJie  Modish 
Lovers  (1664),  by  J.  D.  (Jolm  Dryden  ?)  in  the 
Works  of  Jolm  Dryden,  ed.  Scott-Saintsbury, 
8  (1884).  507;  in  act  4,  sc.  2,  'Enter  Ccurtwell 
[a  brisk  gallant,  lately  arrived  from  Spain] 
and  Ferigveen  from  fighting,  Perigreen  wounded: 
Court.  Rash  boy !  to  force  me  to  this  rude- 
ness; for  'twas  not  manhood  in  me  thus  to 
hurt  thee;  alas,  thou  cou'dst  not  fight;  thou 
hadst  no  skill  to  hold  thy  weapon  for  thy  own 
advantage.'  See  also  Henry  Fielding,  Love  in 
Several  Masques  (1727)  4.4. 

82  11-12.     Laughter    holding   both    his 
sides.     From  Milton,  L' Allegro  32. 

82  18.     a  sagacious  essayist.     I  have  not 
identified  the  writer  to  whom  Aleredith  al- 


190       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

ludes.  Leigh  Hunt,  referring  to  Wycherlej's 
marriage,  says  {Draviatic  Works  of  Wyclierley, 
Congreve,  Vanbrugh,  and  Farquhar,  1866, 
p.  xiii) :  'The  result  of  this  dramatic  exordium 
was  the  usual  termination  of  comedy — matri- 
mony; and  (as  Dennis  might  have  said) 
something  not  so  pleasant  afterward,  at  the 
fall  of  the  curtain.'  See  John  Dennis,  Some 
Remarlcable  Passages  of  the  Life  of  Mr.  Wych- 
erley,  in  A  New  Collection,  of  Miscellanies  in 
Prose  and  Verse,  London,  1725. 

83  1.  Ego  limis.  From  the  speech  of 
Chaerea  in  Terence,  EwnzicAzts  601-602: 

interea  somnus  virginem  opprimit.  ego  limis 
specto  sic  per  flabellum  clanculum. 

('Meanwhile  sleep  overcomes  the  maiden.  I 
furtively  take  a  squint  at  her,  thus,  through 
the  fan,') 

83  10-12.  Elia  .  •  .  bewails  the  extinc- 
tion. See  Charles  Lamb,  On  the  Artificial 
Comedy  of  the  Last  Century  (The  Works  of 
Charles  and  Mary  Lamb,  ed.  Lucas,  2.141  ff.), 
an  essay  first  published  in  the  London  Maga- 
zine, April,  1822.  Meredith  may  have  seen 
it  in  Leigh  Hunt's  collection  of  the  dramatic 
works  of  Wycherley ,  Congreve,  Vanbrugh,  and 
Farquhar   ('a  new   edition,'   London,    1866), 


NOTES  191 

which  contains  the  Restoration  comedies  with 
wliich  Meredith  seems  to  be  most  familiar. 

83  14.  Cleopatra's  Nile-barge.  See 
Shakespeare,  Antony  and  Cleopatra  2.2.1  DI- 
SSS (a  passage  based  upon  North's  transla- 
tion, from  the  French  of  Amyot,  of  The  Life 
of  Marcus  Antonius  by  Plutarch). 

83  18-19.  'fictitious,  half-believed  per- 
sonages.' Meredith  quotes  from  the  essay 
just  mentioned  (Lamb,  Works,  ed.  Lucas, 
2.142). 

83  25.     the  Lurewells  and  the  Plyants. 

Referring  to  the  character  of  Lady  Lurewell  in 
Farquhar's  The  Consta?it  Couple,  or  a  Trip  to 
the  Jubilee  (1C99),  and  its  sequel,  Sir  Harry 
Wildair  (1701),  and  to  that  of  Sir  Paul  Ply- 
ant,  'an  uxorious,  foolish  old  knight,'  in  Con- 
greve's  The  Double-Dealer  (1693), 

84  1-3.  Pinchwifes,  Fondlewifes,  Miss 
Prue,  Peggy,  Hoyden.  Pinchwife  is  the 
husband  in  Wycherley's  The  Country  Wife 
(see  note  on  79  13),  who  thinks  it  necessary 
to  watch  his  wife,  Margery  Pinchwife,  very 
closely  after  introducing  her  to  town  society; 
Fondlewife,  an  uxorious  banker  in  Con- 
greve's  The  Old  Bachelor  (1693);  Miss  Prue, 
'Daughter  to  Foresight  by  a  former  wife,  a 


192       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

silly,  awkward  country  girl,'  in  Congreve's 
Love  for  Love  (1695);  Peg,  'Maid  to  Lady 
Wishfort,'  in  Congreve's  The  Way  of  the  World 
(1700);  for  Hoyden,  see  note  on  80  11. 

84  3.  Millamant.  See  Nettleton,  Eng- 
lish Drama  of  the  Restoration,  pp.  130-131: 
'Yet  if,  in  Dryden's  words,  Tlie  Way  of  the 
World  "had  but  moderate  success,  though  it 
deserves  much  better,"  the  judgment  of  pos- 
terity has  gone  far  to  correct  the  error. 
Millamant,  Congreve's  most  brilliant  char- 
acter creation,  has  commanded  Hazlitt's 
eulogy  [Lectures  on  the  English  Comic  Writers, 
Lecture  4]  and  George  Meredith's  tribute  to 
the  "perfect  portrait  of  a  coquette"  [see  98 
C-7].  They  had  been  anticipated,  however,  by 
an  earlier  critic,  her  lover  Mirabell:  "I  hke 
her  with  all  her  faults;  nay,  like  her  for  her 
faults.  Her  follies  are  so  natural,  or  so  art- 
ful, that  they  become  her;  and  those  affecta- 
tions which  in  another  woman  would  be 
odious,  serve  but  to  make  her  more  agree- 
able" (1 . 2).  She  enters  with  a  flash,  and  goes 
off  in  a  blaze  of  wit.  Even  amid  the  ceaseless 
pyrotechnics  of  Congreve  her  departure  seems 
like  the  extinction  of  a  brilliant  rocket.  Yet 
Millamant  is  an  artificial  creation — beautiful 
and  fragile  as  Dresden  china.     She  has  the 


NOTES  193 

wit,  but  not  the  humanity,  of  Shakespeare's 
Beatrice.' 

84  5-6.  fine  lady's  wardrobe  .  .  .  aban- 
doned Abigail.  The  name  Abigail,  signify- 
ing a  waiting-woman  (probably  from  1 
Samuel  25),  first  came  into  general  use  in 
England  through  The  Scornful  Lady  (1609?) 
of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher.  Meredith  refers 
to  the  custom  of  'fine  ladies'  who  give  their 
cast-oflF  garments  to  their  maids.  Compare 
Smollett,  Tlumyhrey  Clinker  (1771;  ed.  Hen- 
ley, 1899,  1.75):  'An  antiquated  Abigail, 
dressed  in  her  lady's  cast  clothes.' 

84  9.  Punch  and  Judy.  See  Encyclo- 
paedia Britannica,  eleventh  edition,  22.648- 
649  (article  on  Punch  by  R.  Mortimer 
Wheeler),  and  Chambers,  The  Mediaeval  Stage 
2.159-lGO. 

84  16-17.  the  smell  of  blood  in  our 
nursery-songs.  Compare  the  story  of  Jack 
the  Giant- Killer,  where  the  giant  roars: 

Fi,  fee,  fo,  fum  ! 

I  smell  the  blood  of  an  English  man  ! 
Be  he  alive,  or  be  he  dead, 
I'll  grind  his  bones  to  make  me  bread  ! 
84  23-25.     realism  .  .  .  bettering  state. 
'ReaUsm  in  the  writing  is  carried  to  such  a 


194        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

pitch  in  The  Old  Bachelor  that  husband  and 
wife  use  imbecile  connubial  epithets  to  one 
another.'  (Meredith's  footnote.)  See  Con- 
greve,  Tlie  Old  Bachelor  4.1  (end). 

84  25-27.  The  same  of  an  immoral 
may  be  said  of  realistic  exhibitions  of  a 
vulgar  society.  I  have  inserted  an  'as'  in 
brackets  after  'said';  but  the  imperfect  con- 
struction may  be  improved  in  such  a  way  as 
to  convey  either  of  two  meanings:  The  same 
may  be  said  of  realistic  exhibitions  of  an  im- 
moral society  as  may  be  said  of  realistic  ex- 
hibitions of  a  vulgar  one.  Or:  What  is  urged 
against  realistic  exhibitions  of  an  immoral 
society  applies  to  realistic  exhibitions  of  a 
vulgar  one. — I  incline  to  the  latter  interpre- 
tation. 

85  1.     ce  qui  remue  .  .  .  ce  qui  emeut. 

Did  Meredith  take  this  from  Sainte-Beuve, 
whom  he  has  read  with  some  diligence,  or 
from  Joubert,  whom  Sainte-Beuve  quotes? 
See  Sainte-Beuve,  Causeries  du  Lundi  (1852) 
1.136:  'ilf.  Joubert  adore  Venthousiasme,  mats 
il  le  distingue  de  V explosion,  et  vieme  de  la 
verve,  qui  n^est  que  de  seconde  qvulile  dans  Vin- 
spiration,  et  qui  remue,  tandis  que  Vautre 
emeut.'      ('M.  Joubert  worships  enthusiasm. 


NOTES  195 

but  he  distinguishes  it  from  vehemence,  and 
even  from  verve,  which  is  a  quality  of  but 
second  importance  in  inspiration,  and  which 
agitates  us,  whereas  the  other  moves  us.') 
Compare  PensSes  de  J.  Joubert,  1909,  p.  303 
(No.  6):  'L'entliousiasme  est  toujours  calme, 
fovjours  lent,  et  rest  iiitime.  L'explosion  nest 
'point  VeniJiousiasme,  d  nest  point  causee  par 
lid:  elle  vient  d'un  etat  plus  violent,  II  ne  faut 
pas  non  plus  confondre  V enthousiasme  avec  la 
verve :  elle  remue,  et  il  emeut;  elle  est,  apres  lui, 
cc  quil  y  a  de  meilleur  pour  V inspiration. 
Boileau,  Horace,  Aristophane,  eurent  de  la 
verve;  La  Fontaine,  Menandre,  et  Virgile,  le  plus 
doux  et  Is  plus  exquis  enthousiasme  qui  Jut 
jamais.^  ('Enthusiasm  is  ever  calm,  ever 
leisurely,  and  remains  inward.  Vehemence  is 
not  enthusiasm,  and  does  not  result  there- 
from; it  proceeds  from  a  more  violent  state. 
Further,  we  must  not  confuse  enthusiasm  with 
verve;  this  last  agitates  us,  whereas  that  sets 
us  in  motion;  after  enthusiasm,  it  is  verve  that 
offers  what  is  best  for  inspiration.  Boileau, 
Horace,  Aristophanes,  had  verve;  La  Fon- 
taine, Menander,  and  Virgil,  the  most  delicate 
and  exquisite  enthusiasm  that  ever  existed.') 

85  4.  remuage,    T\iG  Qondiiion  oi  agitating 
us. 


196        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

85  15.    as  John  Stuart  Mill  pointed  out. 

I  have  found  no  passage  in  Mill  which  Mere- 
dith directly  echoes,  though  Mill  frequently 
contrasts  French  and  English  manners  and 
literature,  emphasizing  the  social  qualities  of 
the  French,  and  the  direct  relation  between 
their  knowledge  of  life  and  their  writings. 
See,  for  example.  Mill's  essays  on  Armand 
Carrel  and  Alfred  de  Vigny  (in  Dissertations 
and  Discussiom,  New  York,  1882,  1.259,  261, 
328,  333,  etc.). 

85  17-18.  the  Horatian  precept.  See 
Horace,  Ars  Poetica  156-157: 

aetatis  cuiusque  notandi  sunt  tibi  mores, 
mobilibusque  decor  naturis  dandus  et  annis. 

('You  must  mark  the  characteristics  of  each 
several  period  of  life,  and  must  give  the  fitting 
traits  to  the  changing  dispositions  and  shifting 
years.')  Meredith  extends  the  application  to 
different  ages  in  history.  But  compare  tlie 
succeeding  lines  in  Horace;  Shakespeare,  As 
You  Like  It  2.7.136-166;  and  Cornelia  G. 
Harcum,  TJie  Ages  of  Alan,  in  the  Classical 
Weekhj  7.114-118  (Feb.  7,  1914). 

85  25.  Due  de  Montausier.  'Tallemant 
des  Reaux,  in  his  rough  portrait  of  the  Duke, 


NOTES  197 

shows  the  foundation  of  the  character  of  Al- 
ceste.'  (Meredith's  footnote.)  The  reference 
is  to  Charles  de  Sainte-Maure  (1610-1690),  at 
first  Baron  de  Salles,  then  Marquis,  and  finally- 
Due  de  Montausier.  Meredith  probably  saw 
the  'portrait'  as  quoted  by  Sainte-Beuve  in 
Tcdlemant  et  Bussy  in  Causeries  du  Lundi 
(1857)  13.187;  see  Tallemant  des  Reaux 
^1619-1692),  Les  Historiette^,  ed.  Mon- 
merque  and  Paris,  1864,  2. 528:  'En  effect,  cest 
mi  homme  tout  d'une  piece;  Mme  de  Rambou- 
illet  dit  quil  estfou  a  force  d'estre  sage.  Jamais 
il  ny  en  evt  un  qui  eust  plus  de  hesoing  de  sac- 
rifier  aux  Graces.  II  crie,  il  est  rude,  il  rompt  en 
visiere,  et  s'il  gronde  quelqu'un,  il  luy  remet 
devant  les  yeux  tovies  les  iniquitez  passSes. 
Jamais  homme  na  tant  servy  a  me  guerir  de 
Vhumeur  de  disputer.'  ('In  fact,  the  man  is  all 
of  a  piece.  Madame  de  Rambouillet  says  that 
he  is  mad  by  virtue  of  his  wisdom.  Never 
was  there  any  one  who  had  greater  need 
of  sacrificing  to  the  Graces.  He  shouts,  he  is 
blunt,  he  insults  you  to  your  face,  and,  when 
he  chides,  he  openly  revives  all  your  past 
misdeeds.  Never  man  served  so  well  to  cure 
me  of  the  humor  of  arguing.') 

85  26.     the     Misanthrope.       Alceste,    in 
Moliere's  comedy,  Le  Misanthrope  (1666). 


198        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

85  26-27.  according  to  Saint-Simon, 
the  Abbe  Roquette.  See  MSmoires  de  Saint- 
Simon  {Les  Grands  Ecrivains  de  la  France), 
Paris,  1879-1916,  14.293-294:  'II  mourut 
aloTS  [23  Feb.,  1707]  iin  vienx  Sveque  qui,  toute 
sa  vie,  navoit  rien  oublie  pour  faire  fortune  et 
etre  un  personnage;  c'etoit  Roquette,  homme  de 
fort  peu,  qui  avoit  attrape  V eveche  d'Autun,  et 
qui,  a  la  Jin,  ne  pouvant  viieux,  gouvernoit  les 
Stats  de  Bourgogne  a  force  de  souplesses  et  de 
manage  autour  de  Monsieur  le  Prince.  II  avoit 
ete  de  toutes  les  couleurs:  a  Mrae  de  Longue- 
ville,  a  M.  le  Prince  de  Conti  son  frere,  au  car- 
di'iud  Mazarin;  surtout  abandonnS  aux  jhuites; 
tout  Sucre  et  tout  miel,  lie  aux  femmes  impor- 
tantes  de  ces  temps-Id,  et  entrant  dans  toutes  les 
intrigues;  toutefois  grand  bSat.  C'est  sur  lui 
que  Moliere  prit  son  Tartuffe,  et  personne  ne 
sy  mSprit.'  ('There  died  then  [Feb.  23,  1707] 
an  old  bishop  who  all  his  life  never  forgot 
how  to  make  a  success  and  be  a  great  figure; 
it  was  Roquette,  a  man  of  very  little  conse- 
quence, who  had  got  his  hand  on  the  bishopric 
of  Autun,  and  who  in  the  end,  for  want  of  any- 
tliing  better,  governed  the  dominions  of 
Bourgogne  by  means  of  wiles  and  intrigue  in 
the  circle  of  Monsieur  the  Prince.  He  had 
served  under  all  the  colors — under  Madame  de 


NOTES  199 

Longueville,  under  Monsieur  the  Prince  de 
Conti,  under  Cardinal  INIazarin;  above  all, 
given  over  to  the  Jesuits;  all  sugar,  all  honey, 
intimate  with  the  impjortant  women  of  those 
times,  and  entering  into  all  the  intrigues; 
nevertheless  a  blissful  saint.  He  it  was  whom 
Moliere  took  as  model  for  his  Tartuffe,  nor  did 
any  one  fail  to  understand  this.')  I  translate 
the  footnote  of  A.  de  Boislisle  {ibid.  14.294- 
295):  'As  to  the  "original"  of  Tartuffe,  one 
may  consult,  in  addition  to  the  account  in  the 
edition  [of  MoUere]  in  Les  Grands  Ecrivains 
4 .  299  ff.,  an  article  by  M.  Brunetiere  in  the 
Revue  des  Deux  Mondes  for  Aug.  1,  1890, 
pp.  664-675.  It  is  through  the  assertions  of 
Daniel  de  Cosnac  that  the  Abbe  de  Choisy, 
and  subsequently  Saint-Simon,  have  seen  in 
Tartuffe  the  portrait  of  M.  de  Roquette.  A 
paper  in  blue  portfolio  No.  15275,  in  Vol.  581 
of  the  Cabinet  of  Titles,  describes  him  as 
'chief  of  those  false  devotees  known  under 
the  nr.me  of  Tartuffes;  and  d'Holait  (note  in 
portfoho  No.  8138  of  the  foundation  Cherin) 
asserts  that  he  was  so  called  because  of  his  re- 
lations with  Mile,  de  Guise,  of  whose  affairs 
he  took  charge.  IVI.  H.  Pignot,  in  his  book 
(1876)  already  cited  [  U71  Eveque  Reformateur 
soun  Louis    XIV,  Gabriel   de    Roquette],  has 


200        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

discussed,    and   finally   rejected,   this  resem- 
blance.' 

86  16.  poetic  plays.  Meredith  doubt- 
less means  plays  containing  an  abundance  of 
the  lyrical  element,  and  perhaps  also  of  the 
pastoral  element,  such  as  Shakespeare's  As 
You  Like  It,  The  Sad  Shepherd  of  Ben  Jonson, 
and  The  Faithful  Shepherdess  of  John  Fletcher. 
To  Aristotle,  tragedy  is  poetry  par  excellence. 

86  20-21.  the  Greek  New  Comedy.  See 
Legrand,  The  New  Greek  Comedy,  tr.  Loeb, 
London,  1917;  Bond,  Early  Plays  from  the 
Italian,  Oxford,  1911. 

86  26.  Fletcher.  John  Fletcher  (1579- 
1625),  for  whom  see  G.  C.  Macaulay  in  the 
Cambridge  History  of  English  Literature  6.121- 
159  (chapter  5,  on  Beaumont  and  Fletcher). 
Macaulay  says  (p.  152):  'The  Chances  and 
The  Wild-Goose  Chase  stand  in  the  first  rank 
among  Fletcher's  comedies,  and  in  them  we 
see,  in  full  perfection,  that  lively  and  brilhant 
style  of  dialogue  which  gained  him  the  repu- 
tation of  understanding  the  conversation  of 
gentlemen  better  than  any  other  dramatist  of 
his  time.' 

86  26.  Justice  Greedy.  Greedy,  *a 
hungry  justice  of  peace,'  is  a  character  in 


NOTES  201 

A  New  Way  to  Pay  Old  Debts  (1625),  by  Philip 
Massinger  (l583-1640).  For  Massinger  see 
Emil  Koeppel  in  Cam6.  Hist.  Eng.  Lit.  6.160- 
187  (chapter  G). 

86  27-28.  'with  good  capon  lined.*  See 
Shakespeare,  As  You  Like  It  2.7.153-154: 

And  then  the  justice. 
In  fair  round  belly  with  good  capon  lined, 

Meredith  having  misquoted  ('fat  capon') 
I  have  restored  the  proper  reading. 

87  1.  Panurge.  The  jester  of  Pantag- 
ruel  in  the  story  of  this  name  by  Rabelais, 
Panurge  is  an  arrant  rogue,  devoid  of  ah 
moral  quahties,  but  possessed  of  great  ability; 
lie  delights  in  practical  jokes.  His  many  ad- 
ventures include  his  journey  in  quest  of  a 
wife,  when  he  must  consult  the  oracle  of  the 
Holy  Bottle. 

87  11.  Bobadill.  See  Ben  Jonson,  Every 
Man  in  his  Humor  (1598)  1.4: 

BOBADILL.  By  the  foot  of  Pharaoh,  and 
't  were  my  case  now,  I  should  send  him  a 
chartel  presently. 

87  13.  The  comic  of  Jonson.  Prob- 
ably the  best  literary  estimate  of  Ben  Jon- 
son   (1573-1637)    Ls   that   in   the   exhaustive 


202        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

monograph  of  Maurice  Castelain,  Ben  Jonson, 
r Homme  et  I'Oeuvre,  1907. 

87  24-25.  creatures  of  the  woods  and 
wilds.  Meredith  betrays  the  same  preference 
for  the  romantic  comedy  of  Shakespeare  as 
]VIilton  {U Allegro  133-134): 

Or  sweetest  Shakespeare,  Fancy's  child. 
Warble  his  native  wood-notes  wild. 

87  28.  Jaques.  A  lord  attending  upon 
the  banished  Duke  in  As  You  Like  It. 

87  28.  Falstaff.  See  1  and  ^  King 
Henry  the  Fourth,  King  Henry  the  Fifth  2.3> 
and  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor. 

88  1.     Malvolio.    See  Twelfth-Night. 

88  1.     Sir  Hugh  Evans.     See  The  Merry 

Wives  of  Wiridsor. 

88  2.  Fluellen.  See  King  Henry  the 
Fifth. 

88  2-3.  Benedick  and  Beatrice,  Dog- 
berry.   See  Much  Ado  about  Nothing. 

88  6.  His  comedy  of  incredible  im- 
broglio. Shakespeare's  Comedy  of  Errors  may 
have  been  indebted  to  an  earher  Elizabethan 
play,  the  Historie  of  Error,  now  lost,  but  is 
ultimately   founded   in   the   main    upon    the 


NOTES  203 

Menaechmi,  and  in  part  upon  the  Amphiinio, 
of  Plautus. 

88  14-19.  Euripides  .  .  .  inspired  that 
fine  genius.  Does  Meredith  mean,  inspired 
the  genius  of  the  New  Comedy  as  a  whole,  or 
the  genius  of  'romantic  comedy,'  or  inspired 
Menander?  Probably  the  last.  Compare 
Quintihan,  Education  of  an  Orator,  tr.  Watson, 
10.1.69:  'Menander,  as  he  himself  often 
testifies,  admired  Euripides  greatly,  and  even 
imitated  him,  though  in  a  different  depart- 
ment of  the  drama;  and  Menander  alone,  in 
my  judgment,  would,  if  diligently  read,  suffice 
to  generate  all  those  qualities  in  the  student 
of  oratory  for  which  I  am  an  advocate;  so 
exactly  does  he  represent  all  the  phases  of 
human  life;  such  is  his  fertility  of  invention, 
and  easy  grace  of  expression;  and  so  readily 
does  he  adapt  himself  to  all  circumstances, 
persons,  and  feelings.'  But  the  tragedies 
of  Euripides  furnished  only  one  of  the  influ- 
ences that  profluced  the  New  Comedy.  See 
Legrand,  The  New  Greek  Comedy,  chapter  5 
(pp.  206-272),  and  Index,  s.  v.  'Aristophanes,' 
'Euripides,'  'Theoplirastus,'  etc. 

88  28.     rose-pink  ladies.    In  1869  Mere- 
dith said  of  the  'Usping  and  voweled  purity' 


204        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

of  Tennyson  in  the  Idylls  of  the  King  {Letters 
of  George  Meredith,  1912,  1.198):  'It's 
fasliionable;  it  pleases  the  rose-pink  ladies;  it 
sells.'    Compare  note  on  112  2. 

89  25.  as  the  Prince  de  Conde  ex- 
plained. The  expression  used  by  Meredith 
is  not  found  in  the  explanation  to  the  King 
commonly  attributed  to  the  great  Conde,  but 
is  possibly  taken  from  Voltaire,  who  quotes 
from  an  unidentified  soiu-ce  {Oeuvres  Completes 
de  Voltaire,  Paris,  1879,  etc.,  23.117):  'Pen- 
dard  qrion  supprimait  cet  ouvrage  [Le  Tartuffe], 
qui  etait  Veloge  de  la  vertu  et  la  satire  de  la  seule 
hypocrisie,  on  permit  qu'on  joudt  sur  le  theatre 
italien  Scaramouche  Ermite,  piece  tres-froide, 
si  elle  neut  ete  licensieuse,  dans  laquelle  un 
ermite  vetu  en  moine  monte  la  nuit  par  une 
echelle  a  la  fenetre  d'une  femme  mariee,  et 
reparait  de  temps  en  temps  en  disant:  "  Questo 
e  per  mortificar  la  carne."  On  sail  sur  cela  le 
mot  du  grand  Conde:  "Les  comediens  italiens 
nont  offense  que  Dieu,  mais  les  frangais  ont 
offense  les  dhots."  '  ('We  know  the  saying 
on  this  head  of  the  great  Conde:  "The  Italian 
comedians  have  merely  offended  God,  but  the 
French  have  offended  the  bigots."  ')  Accord- 
ing to  the  edition  of  Voltaire  just  cited,  in 
1739  he  alluded  to  the  'saying'  without  quot- 


NOTES  205 

ing  it;  the  quotation  was  added  in  17G4.  The 
better-known  'saying'  appears  at  the  close  of 
Moliere's  Preface  to  the  first  edition  (16G9) 
of  Tartuffe;  see  Oeuvres  de  Moliere  (Lcs  Grands 
£erivains  de  la  France),  1873,  etc.,  4.383-384: 

'Finissons  par  un  mot  d'un  grand  prince  sur 
la  comMie  du  Tartuffe. 

*  Huit  jours  apres  quelle  eut  He  d^f endue,  on 
representa  devant  la  cour  vne  piece  intituUe 
Scaramouche  Ermite;  et  le  Roi,  en  sortant,  dit 
au  grand  prince  que  je  veux  dire:  "i/e  voudrols 
Men  savoir  pourquoi  les  gens  qui  se  scandal- 
isent  si  fort  de  la  comedie  de  Moliere  ne  disent 
mot  de  celle  de  Scaramouche."  A  quoi  le  Prince 
repondit:  "La  raison  de  ccla,  cest  que  la  comedie 
de  Scaramouche  joue  la  del  et  la  religion,  dont 
ces  Messieurs-la  ne  se  soucient  point;  mais 
celle  de  Moliere  lcs  joue  eux-memes:  cest  ce 
quils  ne  peuvcnt  soiiffrir."  ' 

('Let  us  close  with  a  saj'ing  of  a  great 
prince  on  the  comedy  of  Tartuffe. 

'Eight  days  after  the  play  had  been  for- 
bidden, there  was  represented  before  the  Court 
a  piece  entitled  Scaramouche  the  Hermit;  and 
when  the  King  was  leaving,  he  said  to  the 
prince  I  refer  to:  "I  should  very  much  like  to 
know  why  the  people  who  are  so  greatly 
scandalized  by  the  comedy  of  Moliere  have 


206        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

not  a  word  to  say  about  that  of  Scaramonche." 
To  wliich  the  Prince  rephed:  "The  reason  is, 
the  comedy  of  Scaramouche  ridicules  Heaven 
and  religion,  for  which  those  gentlemen  feel 
no  concern,  but  that  of  Moliere  ridicules  those 
gentlemen  themselves — and  that  is  what  they 
cannot  endure."  ') 

90  1-2.  the  Precieuses.  Moliere's  com- 
edy, in  one  act,  Les  Precieuses  Ridicules  (1659) 
preceded  Les  Femmes  Savantes  (see  90  5)  by 
thirteen  years. 

90  14-15.  the  Misanthrope  .  .  .  frigidly 
received.  A  traditional  error,  found  in 
Grimarcst  (1705) ;  see  La  Vie  de  Mr  de  Moliere, 
par  J.-L.  le  Gallois,  Sieur  de  Grimarest,  Reim- 
■pression  de  V edition  originale  .  .  .  ed.  Malassis, 
Paris,  1877,  pp.  98-99:  7Z  [Moliere]  ne  fut 
pas  plustost  rentre  dans  son  cabinet  quil  tra- 
vailla  au  INIedecin  malgre  lui,  pour  soutenir  le 
IMisan trope,  dont  le  seconde  repr6sentatio7i 
fut  encore  plus  foible  que  la  premiere — ce  qui 
Vobligea  de  se  depecher  de  fabriquer  sonfagotier. 
.  .  .  La  troisieme  reprisentation  du  Misan- 
trope  fut  encore  moins  heurexise  que  les  pricS- 
dentcs.  On  n'aimoit  point  tout  ce  sSrieuj;  qui 
est  ripandu  dans  cette  piece.  D'ailleurs  le 
Marquis  itoit  la  copie  de  plusieurs  originaux 


NOTES  207 

dc  consequence,  qui  decrioicnt  Vouvrage  de  toute 
leur  force.  "Je  nai  pourtant  pufaire  mieux,  et 
seureip.erJ  je  neferai  pas  mieux',"  disoit  Molihe 
d,  tout  le  monde.'  ('Moliere  had  no  sooner  re- 
turned to  his  study  than  he  set  to  work  on  the 
Midecin  Malgrc  Lid  so  as  to  bolster  up  the 
Misanthrope,  the  second  representation  of 
which  was  still  less  effective  than  the  first — 
wliich  made  him  hasten  to  forge  his  faggoteer 
[  =  Sganarelle].  .  .  .  The  third  representa- 
tion of  the  Misanthrope  was  even  less  success- 
ful than  the  two  preceding.  The  element  of 
seriousness  which  pervades  the  piece  was  not 
at  a!l  well-liked.  Moreover,  the  Marquis  was 
copied  from  various  personages  of  consequence, 
who  decried  the  work  with  all  their  might. 
"However,  I  could  not  do  better,  and  assur- 
edly I  never  shall  do  better,"  said  Moliere  to 
every  one.')  But  compare  the  actual  receipts 
at  the  first  performances  {Le  Misanthrope,  ed. 
Livet,  1883,  pp.  ii,iii) : '  "Friday,  June 4  [16G6], 
first  performance  of  the  Misanthrope,  a  new 
play  by  M.  de  MoUere,  1447  liv.,  10  s.;  divided, 
92  litres."  From  the  time  his  troupe  was  es- 
tablished at  Paris,  that  is,  since  October  24, 
1658,  only  thirteen  times  had  Moliere's  re- 
ceipts reached  a  higher  figure.  .  .  .  The  Mis- 
anthrope, then,  from  the  outset  promised  sue- 


208        THE  IDEA   OF  COMEDY 

cess;  on  Sunday,  June  6,  the  success  was  con- 
firmed, the  receipts  rising  to  1617  liv.,  10  s.,  a 
figure  that  up  to  tliis  time  had  been  exceeded 
for  the  troupe  but  eight  times.  Furthermore, 
they  continued  to  give  this  play  nineteen 
times  more  up  to  August  1.' 

92  24-25.      Millamant     .     .     .     Mirabel!. 

See  note  on  84  3. 

93  6-7.  The  Agnes  of  the  Ecole  des 
Femmes  should  be  a  lesson.  Agnes  is  a 
young  girl  reared  by  the  middle-aged  Ar- 
nolphe  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  her  extremely 
unsophisticated  and  apparently  docile.  Her 
guardian  (who  was  training  her  to  be  his  own 
wife)  is  therefore  astounded  when  she  insists 
upon  marrying  a  youth  she  has  secretly  met 
during  his  absence  from  town.  Her  own  ex- 
planation of  her  change  of  front  is  (5.4): 

Et  dans  I'age  ou  je  suis, 
Je  ne  veux  plus  passer  pour  sotte,  si  je  puis. 

94  12-13.  Plain  Dealer,  a  coarse  prose 
adaptation  of  the  Misanthrope.     See  111 

27-28,  and  note  on  95  27-96  2. 

94  22-23.  Goldsmith  .  .  .  comic  in  nar- 
rative. Meredith  evidently  prefers  The 
Vicar  of  Wakefield   (1766)  to  She   Stoops    to 


NOTES  209 

Conquer,  produced  at  Co  vent  Garden  (1773) 
before  an  enthusiastic  audience.  The  sub-title 
of  Meredith's  novel  The  Egoist  is:  A  Comedy 
in  Narrative. 

94  24.  Fielding.  Henry  Fielding  (1707- 
1754)  produced  several  comedies,  burlesques, 
and  farces  between  1728  and  1737,  when  the 
Licensing  Act  was  passed.  He  then  turned  to 
novels;  it  is  on  Joseph  Andrews,  Jonathan  Wild, 
and  Tom  Jones  that  his  reputation  chiefly 
rests.  Yet  his  own  opinion  (see  Austin  Dob- 
son  in  the  Encyc.  Brit.)  was  that  'he  left  off 
writmg  for  the  stage  when  he  ought  to  have 
begun.' 

95  5.  comedy  as  a  jade.  'See  Tom 
Jones,  Book  8,  chapter  1,  for  Fielding's 
opinion  of  our  comedy.  But  he  puts  it  simply ; 
not  as  an  exercise  in  the  quasi-philosophical 
bathetic'  (Meredith's  footnote.)  Fielding 
writes:  'Our  modern  authors  of  comedy  have 
fallen  almost  universally  into  the  error  here 
liinted  at;  their  heroes  generally  are  notorious 
rogues,  and  their  heroines  abandoned  jades, 
during  the  first  four  acts;  but  in  the  fifth,  the 
former  become  very  worthy  gentlemen,  and 
the  latter  women  of  virtue  and  discretion; 
nor  is  the  writer  often  so  kind  as  to  give  him- 


210        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

self  the  least  trouble  to  reconcile  or  account 
for  this  monstrous  change  and  incongruity. 
...  As  a  genius  of  the  highest  rank  observes 
in  his  fifth  chapter  of  the  Bathos:  "The  great 
art  of  all  poetry  is  to  mix  truth  with  fiction, 
in  order  to  join  the  credible  with  the  sur- 
prizing." ' 

95  27-96  2.      Scene  5,  Act  2,  of  the  Mis- 
anthrope .  .  .  Wycherley,  Congreve,  and 

Sheridan.  See  Wycherley,  Plahi  Dealer  2.1; 
Congreve  (ed.  Ewald,  1887),  Way  of  tlie  World 
1.1-2,  2.2;  Sheridan,  School  for  Scandal  1.1, 
2.2.  But  our  identification  of  scenes  can  be 
only  approximate,  since  the  arrangement  of 
them  (for  example,  in  Congreve)  differs  in 
different  editions,  and  it  is  impossible  to  say 
what  editions  Meredith  consulted.  On  the 
influence  of  MoUere  see  Ferchlandt,  Moliere's 
Misanthrop  und  seine  Englischen  Nachahm- 
ungen,  Halle  a.  S.,  1907;  Gillet,  Moliere  en 
Angleterre,  1660-1670,  Memoires  of  the  Acad- 
emic Royale  de  Belgique,  second  series. 
Vol.  9,  Brussels,  1913;  Miles,  Tlie  Influence  of 
Molih-e  on  Restoration  Comedy,  New  York, 
1910. 

96  19.    Tartuffe.  See    pp.    112    ff.,    and 
note  on  85  26-27. 


NOTES  211 

96  20.  Harpagon.  The  wretched  hero  of 
MoHere's  UAvare  (1667),  a  miser  in  whom,  as 
in  the  Euclio  of  the  Aulularia  of  Plautus, 
avarice  has  overcome  all  better  impulses. 
Compare  what  J.  Wight  Duff  says  of  Euclio 
{A  Literary  History  of  Rome,  p.  177) :  'The  two 
other  great  portraits  of  a  miser  are  French; 
for  neither  Ben  Jonson's  Volpone  nor  Shake- 
speare's Shylock  loved  gold  after  the  typical 
manner  of  VAvare.  MoHere's  Harpagon  and 
Balzac's  Grandet  instantly  cross  the  mind  as 
one  reads.' 

96  25-27.  the  lesson  Chrysale  reads  to 
Philaminte  and  Belise.  See  Moliere,  Les 
Femmcs  Savantes  2.7.  Chrysale  is  an  honest 
tradesman  of  strong  common  sense;  Phila- 
minte, his  wife,  has  discharged  an  excellent 
cook  for  faulty  grammar;  Belise,  his  sister, 
detects  subtle  love-making  in  the  speeches  of 
all  her  acquaintance. 

97  C-7,  inspires  a  pun  with  meaning 
and  interest.     'Femjnes  Savantes: 

BELISE.     Veux-tu    toute    ta   vie   offenser   la 

grammaire  ? 
MARTiNE.     Qui   parle   d'offenser   grand'mere 

ni  grand  pere? 

The  pun  is  delivered  in  all  sincerity,  from 


212       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

the  mouth  of  a  rustic'  (Meredith's  foot- 
note.) See  Les  Femmes  Savantes  2.6.64-65. 
97  12-13.  life  .  .  .  likened  to  the  com- 
edy of  Moliere.  Compare  the  utterance  at- 
tributed to  the  learned  grammarian  Aris- 
tophanes of  Byzantium  (Syrianus  in  Hermo- 
genem,  ed.  Rabe,  1892,  2.23  [134.4]:  'O 
Menander,  and  thou,  human  life,  which  of 
you  copied  the  other  ? '  Coleridge  renders  it 
{Works,  ed.  Shedd,  4.26):  'O  Life  and  Me- 
nander, which  of  3'ou  two  imitated  the  other.''' 

97  26-27,  The  Double-Dealer.  'Mask- 
well  seems  to  have  been  carved  on  the  model 
of  lago,  as  by  the  hand  of  an  enterprising 
urchin.  He  apostrophizes  his  "invention" 
repeatedly:  "Thanks,  my  Invention."  He 
hits  on  an  invention,  to  say:  "Was  it  my 
Brain  or  Providence.'* — no  matter  which."  It 
is  no  matter  which,  but  it  was  not  his  brain.' 
(Meredith's  footnote.)  See  Congreve  (ed. 
Ewald),  Double-Dealer  5.4;  3.1. 

98  6-7.  where  Valentine  feigns  mad- 
ness, or  retorts  on  his  father.  See  Con- 
greve, Love  for  Love  4.2;  2.1. 

98  9.  keeps  them  'from  air.'  See  Ziore 
Jor  Love  2 . 2,  where  ]\Irs.  Frail  says  to  Mrs, 
Foresight:  'Ours  are  but  slight  flesh  wounds. 


NOTES  213 

and  if  we  keep  'em  from  air,  not  at  all  danger- 
ous.' 

99  6-7.  Landor.  'Imaginary  Conversa- 
tions, Alfieri  and  the  Jew  Salomon.'  (Mere- 
dith's footnote.)  See  Landor's  Imaginary 
Conversations,  ed.  Forster,  Alfieri  and  Salo- 
mon the  Florentine  Jew  (3.277). 

99  11-12.     'few  have  been  wittier.'     As 

Meredith  quotes:  '"Few  men  have  been 
wittier."  '    I  have  rectified  the  quotation. 

99  21.      On    voit    .    ,    .    de    hons    mots. 

('One  observes  that  he  labors  to  utter  smart 
sayings.')  A  line  in  the  satirical  character- 
sketch  by  Celimene  of  Damis,  uncle  of  the 
young  Cleon  (^loWkve,  Misanthrope  2.5.78). 

99  24-25.     an  example  .  .  .  for  eulogy. 

The  passage  is  found  in  Congreve  (ed.  Ewald), 
The  Way  of  the  World  1.2. 

99  27.  my  brother  .  .  .  Meredith  reads: 
*my  brother,  etc.,  etc.';  he  has  purposely 
omitted  five  lines. 

100  2.  upon  honor.  Meredith  reads: 
'upon  my  honor.' 

100  18-19.  He  hits  the  mean  of  a  fine 
style  and  a  natural  in  dialogue.    Compare 

Aristotle,  Poetics,  chapter  22  (Cooper,  Aris- 


214        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

totle  On  the  Art  of  Poetry,  pp.  73-74):  'In  re- 
spect to  diction,  the  ideal  for  the  poet  is  to  be 
clear  without  being  mean.  The  clearest  dic- 
tion is  that  which  is  made  up  of  current  terms 
[the  ordinary  words  for  things].  But  a  style 
so  composed  is  mean.  ,  .  .  But  the  language 
attains  majesty  and  distinction  when  the  poet 
makes  use  of  terms  that  are  less  familiar:  rare 
words,  metaphors,  lengthened  forms — every- 
thing that  deviates  from  the  ordinary  usage. 
Yet  if  one  composes  in  a  diction  of  such 
terms  alone,  the  result  will  be  either  a  riddle 
or  a  jargon.  .  .  .  The  poet,  then,  should  em- 
ploy a  certain  admixture  of  these  expressions 
that  deviate  from  the  ordinary;  for  distinction 
and  elevation  of  style  will  result  from  the  use 
of  such  means  as  the  strange  word,  the  meta- 
phor, the  ornamental  word  [.'*  the  nobler,  when 
there  are  synonyms],  and  the  rest;  and  clear- 
ness will  arise  from  such  part  of  the  language 
as  is  in  common  use.' 

101  3.  boudoir  billingsgate.  Billings- 
gate, the  proper  name  (doubtless  from  a  per- 
sonal name  Billing)  of  one  of  the  gates  of  Lon- 
don, was  carried  over  to  the  fish-market  there 
established.  The  seventeenth-century  refer- 
ences to  the  'rhetoric'  or  abusive  language  of 
this  market  are  frequent;  accordingly,   foul 


NOTES  215 

language,  as  of  a  fishwife,  is  itself  called  '  bill- 
ingsgate' [New  English  Dictionary].  See 
then,  for  example,  the  tirade  of  Lady  Wish- 
fort  against  Foible,  her  woman  (Congreve, 
The  Way  of  the  World  5.1):  'Out  of  my  house, 
out  of  my  house,  thou  viper !  thou  serpent, 
that  I  have  fostered !  thou  bosom  traitress, 
that  I  raised  from  notliing  ! — Begone  !  begone  ! 
begone  ! — go  !  go  ! — That  I  took  from  washing 
of  old  gauze  and  weaving  of  dead  hair,  with 
a  bleak  blue  nose  over  a  chafing-dish  of 
starved  embers,  and  dining  behind  a  traverse 
rag,  in  a  shop  no  bigger  than  a  birdcage ! — 
Go,  go!  starve  agam,  do,  do!' 

101  19.  dwindle  into  a  wife.  See  Con- 
greve, The  Way  of  the  World  4.1:  'These  ar- 
ticles subscribed,  if  I  continue  to  endure  you 
a  little  longer,  I  may  by  degrees  dwindle  into 
a  wife.' 

101  22-29.  Here  she  comes  .  .  .  mind 
and  mansion.     Tlic  Way  of  the  World  2.2. 

102  2-3.  encouraged  .  .  .  by  Mrs.  Fain- 
all.  The  Way  of  the  World  4.1:  'Fy!  Fy! 
have  him,  have  him,  and  tell  him  so  in  plain 
terms;  for  I  am  sure  you  have  a  mind  to  him.' 

102  6.  thought  so  too.  Meredith  reads: 
'thought    so    too,    etc.,    etc'      In    Congreve, 


216       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

Millamant  continues:  'Well,  you  ridiculous 
thing  you,  I'll  have  you — ' 

102  9.  Celimene.  Meredith  now  re- 
turns to  his  favorite  comic  poet,  Moliere,  and 
his  favorite  comedy,  Le  Misanthrope.  See 
90  14-91   2. 

102  19-20.  Gainsborough.  See,  doubt- 
less, the  portrait  of  the  Duchess  of  Devon- 
shire, by  Thomas  Gainsborough  (1727-1788), 
exhibited  in  1783.  The  picture  was  stolen 
in  1876  (Meredith  was  working  on  his  essay  in 
that  year),  and  not  recovered  until  1901. 
And  compare  Araminta  (1909),  a  novel  by 
J.  C.  Snaith. 

102  22.  Venetian  head.  Meredith  com- 
pares Gainsborough  with  Titian  (1477.^- 
1576),  who  spent  the  major  part  of  his  life  in 
Venice,  and  idealized  the  blond  type  of 
northern  Italy. 

103  8.      Rousseau,    in    his    letter.      The 

letter  is  not  strictly  on  the  subject  of  the 
Misanthrope:  see  J.  J.  Rousseau,  Citoyen  de 
Geneve,  A  M.  D'Alembert,  de  VAcademie 
Frangaise  [etc.],  snr  son  Article  'Geneve'  dans  le 
VII"  Volume  de  VEncydopidie,  et  particuliere- 
ment  sur  le  Projet  d'Etablir  un  Theatre  de 
ComSdie  en  cctte  Ville  (1758).     I  translate  a 


NOTES  217 

brief  passage  {Oeuvres  Completes  de  J.  J. 
Rousseau,  ed.  Musset-Pathay,  Paris,  1824, 
2.49-50):  'What  is,  then,  the  misanthrope  of 
Moliere?  A  man  of  probity  who  detests  the 
morals  of  liis  age  and  the  maUce  of  his  con- 
temporaries; who,  precisely  because  he  loves 
his  kind,  hates  in  them  the  injuries  they  mutu- 
ally do  to  one  another,  and  the  \-ices  of  which 
these  injuries  are  the  result.  .  .  .  He  says, 
I  admit,  that  he  has  conceived  a  dreadful 
hatred  agamst  the  human  race.  But  under 
what  circumstances  does  he  say  tliis.'*  It  is 
when,  outraged  at  having  seen  his  friend  basely 
betray  his  affection,  and  deceive  the  man  who 
demands  it  in  return,  he  perceives  him  going 
on  to  amuse  himself  in  the  highest  degree  at 
his  anger.  .  .  .  Moreover,  the  excuse  he 
gives  for  that  universal  hate  fully  justifies  the 
cause  of  it.' 

103  26-27.  '  une  ame  de  vingt  arts.* 
Celimene  to  Alceste  {Misanthrope  5.7.42): 

La  solitude  effraie  une  ame  de  vingt  ans. 

('Solitude  alarms  a  creature  of  twenty 
years.') 

104  20.  I'homme  aux  rubans  verts.' 
Acaste  to  Alceste,  reading  aloud  the  letter 
written  by  Celimene  (Misanthrope  5.4): 


218        THE   IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

Pour  Vhomme  aux  ruhans  verts,  il  me  di- 
vertii  quelquefois  avec  ses  hrusqueries  et  son 
chagrin  hourru;  mats  il  est  cent  moments  ou. 
je  le  trouve  le  plus  fdcheux  du  monde."  ' 
('  "As  for  the  man  with  the  green  ribbons, 
he  sometimes  diverts  me  with  his  rough  ways 
and  his  surly  anger;  but  there  are  a  hundred 
occasions  when  I  find  him  the  most  disagree- 
able person  alive."  ') 

105  5.  a  Jean  Jacques.  See  note  on  Jean 
Jacques  Rousseau  (1712-1778),  103  8. 

105  5-6.  His  proposal  to  Celimene. 
See  Le  Misanthrope  5 . 7. 

105  14.  Oil  d'etre  homme  d'honneur. 
See  the  conclusion  of  the  last  speech  of  Al- 
ceste  (Misanthrope  5.8.72-74): 

Je  vais  sortir  d'un  gouffre  oti  triomphent  les 

vices, 
Et  chercher  sur  la  terre  un  endroit  ecarte 
Oil  d'etre  homme  d'honneur  on  ait  la  liberte. 
('I  am  going  to  leave  a  pit  where  vice  is  tri- 
umphant, and  to  search  through  the  earth  for 
a  place  apart,  where  one  is  at  liberty  to  be  an 
honest  man.') 

105  16.  like  that  poor  princess.  I  have 
not  found  the  story  elsewhere.  Is  Meredith 
inventing? 


NOTES  219 

105  19.  fieffee.  The  word  means  'by 
feudal  right  and  necessity,'  and  hence  'out 
and  out,'  'arrant.'  Livet  {Lexique  de  la 
Langue  de  Moliere)  gives  several  instances 
from  Moliere,  including  L'Avare  2.5:  ' II  faut 
etre  folle  fieffee.'  For  Meredith's  'fieffie 
coquette'  see  an  additional  example  noted  by 
Livet,  in  Thomas  CorneUle,  Baron  d'Albikrac 
1.6: 

Avec  vos  cheveux  blonds,  en  coquette  fieflFee 
Vous  vous  imaginez  etre  fort  bien  coiffee. 

106  9.  comic  Muse.  Thalia.''  Compare 
note  on  78  8-9. 

106  16-17.  Misogynes.  That  is,  The 
Woman  -  Hater.  The  Atticist  Phrynichus 
(fl.  A.D.  180)  calls  it,  not  'the  most  celebrated' 
(Meredith),  but  'the  finest'  of  the  comedies  of 
Menander;  see  the  Epitome  in  Lobeck's 
edition  (1820)  of  Phrynichus  (p.  417):  'kuI 
rovTO  '^livavOpo%  rrjv  KaWiffTTjv  rCiv  KiOfiiiidiiov  tQiv 
iavTov,  rbv  ^liaoyvvrji/,  KareKTjXidwcrev.' 

107  4-5.  the  middle  period  of  Greek 
comedy.  The  question  has  been  raised 
whether  there  was  in  reality  a  definite  stage 
in  the  history  of  Greek  comedy  which  we  may 
designate  as  the  'Middle  Comedy.'  Legrand 
{Tlie  New  Greek  Comedy,  tr.  Loeb,  pp.  4  ff.) 


220       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

decides  in  the  affirmative.  Meredith  may 
have  obtained  his  notions  of  the  comedy  inter- 
vening between  Aristophanes  and  the  contem- 
poraries of  Menander  from  Charles  Benoit's 
Essai  Historique  et  Litleraire  sur  la  Coraedie 
de  MSnandre  (1854)  or  Maurice  Guillaume 
Guizot's  MSnandre,  Etude  Historique  et  Litler- 
aire sur  la  ComSdie  et  la  SociStS  Grecqites  (1855). 
Legrand  says  (p.  24)  that  perhaps  the  differ- 
ence between  the  Middle  and  the  New  Com- 
edy 'lay  not  so  much  in  the  kind  of  people  it 
attacked  as  in  the  greater  or  lesser  frequency 
of  its  attacks.'  Possibly  the  Middle  Comedy 
made  more  extensive  use  of  plots  taken  from 
mythology;  but  our  knowledge  of  the  tran- 
sitional stage  is  slight. 

107  10-11.  He  satirized  a  certain  Thais. 
Menander  wrote  a  comedy  of  this  name 
(0a/s),  now  best  known,  perhaps,  because  of 
a  maxim  from  it,  or  from  Euripides,  quoted  by 
Saint  Paul  (1  Cor.  15.33):  'Evil  communica- 
tions corrupt  good  manners.'  But  Legrand 
says  (p.  29):  'It  is  particularly  open  to  ques- 
tion whether  Athenaeus  was  not  mistaken 
in  recognizing  an  historical  personage  in 
Menander 's  Thais.' 

107  14.  Chrysis.  See  the  Aridria  ( =  The 
Lady  of  Andros)  of  Terence. 


NOTES  221 

107  20-21.     the  ghost  of  Menander.    See 

Sainte-Beuve  on  Terence,  in  Nouveaux  Lundis 
(Aug.  3,  1863),  1884,  5.339:  "Pour  moi,  je 
crois  entendre  VOmbre  de  Menandre,  par 
chacun  de  ces  vers  aimables  qui  nous  sont 
arrives  en  debris,  nous  dire:  "  Pour  Vamour  de 
moi,  aimez  Terence"  '  ('As  for  me,  with 
each  one  of  these  winning  verses  that  have 
come  down  to  us  in  fragments,  I  seem  to  hear 
the  shade  of  Menander  say  to  us:  "For  love 
of  me  love  Terence."  ') 

107  24.  what  is  preserved  of  Terence  has 
not  .  .  .  given  us  the  best.  Contrary  to 
the  view  of  Meredith  and  his  age,  the  disap- 
pointing nature  of  the  fragments  of  Menan- 
der that  have  been  unearthed  since  Meredith 
wrote  might  lead  one  to  think  that  perhaps, 
after  all,  the  best  of  the  New  Comedy  was 
no  better  than  what  we  have  in  Plautus  and 
Terence.    See  note  on  107  27. 

107   25-26.     the  friend  of  Epicurus.    The 

relations  between  Menander  and  the  Greek 
philosopher  Epicurus  remind  us  that  Moliere 
studied  under  the  French  philosopher  and 
mathematician  Gassendi. 

107  26-27.  Mto-ov/xei'O?,  the  lover  taken 
in  horror.     Possibly  rather.  The  Jilted  Lover 


222       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

(Lat.  Odiosus).  Compare  Legrand,  The  New 
Greek  Comedy,  p.  151:  *In  the  'M.ia-oijfievos  the 
jilted  lover  is  driven  out  of  doors  at  night 
by  his  sad  thoughts,  and  awakens  his  slave 
Getas,  who  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  matter, 
to  tell  him  of  his  mortification.' 

107  27.  HeptKeipofjLevT].  (Lat.  Tonsa.)  This 
is  one  of  the  plays  of  Menander  of  which 
very  considerable  fragments  have  recently 
been  discovered,  and  the  quality  of  which 
(see  note  on  107  24)  can  now  be  appraised.  A 
French  translation  appears  in  the  edition  of 
"Hpws,  'ETrtrp^Toyres,  IlepiKeipoiJ.4v7j,  and  lia/xLa,  by 
G.  Lefebvre,  Cairo,  1907;  and  a  version 
of  'ETTLTp^iroirre^  (U Arbitrage)  is  given  by 
Maurice  Croiset  in  the  Revile  des  Etudes 
Grecques  21.229-325  (1908).  Those  who  do 
not  read  French  with  ease  may  wish  to 
consult  the  translation  from  the  Teupyds  by 
Grenfell  and  Hunt  in  their  edition  of  the 
Geneva  Fragment  of  this  play  (Oxford,  1898). 

108  5.  the  fragments.  See  Comiconim 
Atticorum  Fragmenta,  ed.  Kock,  3.97-101, 
111-112. 

108  6-7.  four  are  derived  from  Me- 
nander. In  their  entirety,  according  to  our 
present  knowledge,  only  three.     The  Andria 


NOTES  223 

was  drawn  from  two  plays  of  Menander, 
'AvSpla  and  UepivOla;  the  Eunuchus  likewise 
from  two,  'EuyoOxoi  and  K6Xaf;  the  Heauton 
Timorumenos  from  one,  "Eavrbv  Tt/jucpoOnevoi; 
while  the  Adelphi  was  drawn  partly  from  the 
'ASe\(pol  B'  of  Menander,  and  partly  from 
the  ^vvawoOvT^ffKovrei  of  Diphilus.  As  Mere- 
dith notes,  the  other  two  extant  plays  of 
Terence  are  derived  from  Apollodorus  Carys- 
tius — the  Hecyra  from  'E/a5po,  the  Phormio  from 
'E7rt5£Kaf6/iej'os.  Meredith  later  (109  14-15) 
alludes  to  a  passage  from  Dipliilus  in  the 
Adel'phi. 

108  11.     Heauton    Timorumenos.      The 

Self -Tormentor  (or  Self-Pu7iisher)  of  Terence, 
in  which  Menedemus  afflicts  himself  with 
heavy  labor  because  he  has  driven  away  his 
son  Clinia  by  harsh  treatment.  In  this  play 
occurs  the  line  (77)  uttered  by  Chremes: 

homo  sum;  humani  nil  a  me  alienum  puto. 

('I  am  a  man;  nought  touches  humanity 
but  I  deem  it  my  concern.')  The  sentence 
strikes  the  key-note  of  both  Terence  and 
Menander. 

108   16—17.       quotations     of     Athenaeus 
and     Plutarch.       See    Yonge's     translation 


224        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

(Bolm)  of  The  Deipnosophists,  or  Bajiquet  of 
the  Learned,  of  Athenaeus,  a  Greek  writer, 
born  at  Naucratis  in  Egypt,  who  lived  first 
at  Alexandria  and  later  at  Rome  about  300 
A.D.;  and  Goodwin's  edition  of  transla- 
tions, by  several  hands,  of  the  Moralia  of 
Plutarch  of  Chaeronea  (c  46-  c  120  a.d.).  or 
the  translation  in  Everyman's  Library,  But 
we  now  know  more  both  of  Menander  and  of 
his  contemporaries  than  Meredith  allows;  see 
again  Legrand,  The  New  Greek  Comedy. 

108  17-18.     the     Greek     grammarians. 

Such  as  the  ' Atticist '  Phrynichus  (see  note  on 
106  16-17);  compare  Sandys,  A  Short  History 
of  Classical  Scholarship,  1915,  chapter  10  (pp. 
77  ff.). 

108  21.  counted  by  many  scores.  Mere- 
dith first  (1877)  wrote:  'by  hundreds.'  The 
number  of  plays  ascribed  to  Menander  by  the 
critics  of  antiquity  varied  between  105  and 
109.  According  to  Suidas  the  number  was 
108,  the  figure  now  generally  accepted 
(Croiset,  Histoire  de  la  Littirature  Grecque 
3.623);  they  were  composed  within  a  period 
of  thirty  years. 

108  22.  crowned  by  the  prize  only  eight 
times.     See  Aulus  Gellius   (tr.  Beloe,  1795) 


NOTES  225 

17.4:  'Through  interest,  and  the  power  of 
party,  Menander  was  frequently  overcome  in 
the  dramatic  contests  by  Philemon,  a  writer 
by  no  means  his  equal.  Menander,  meeting 
him  once  by  chance,  said  to  him:  "Tell  me, 
I  request, — and  excuse  me  for  asking, — 
Philemon,  do  you  not  blush  when  you  carry 
away  the  prize  from  me.'"  .  .  .  Some  say 
that  Menander  left  108,  some  109,  comedies. 
I  have  met  in  a  book  written  by  ApoUodorus, 
an  eminent  author,  these  lines  upon  Me- 
nander (the  book  is  intituled  Chronica) : 

From  Diopeithes  of  Cephisium 

He  sprung,  and  fifty  years  and  two  he  lived. 

And  wrote  an  hundred  comedies  and  five. 

The  same  ApoUodorus  informs  us,  in  the 
same  book,  that  of  these  105  plays  only 
[eight]  were  rewarded  with  the  prize.'  By  a 
slip  of  the  pen,  doubtless,  Beloe  mistranslates 
*octo'  as  'five.' 

108  22-23.  The  favorite  poet  with  crit- 
ics, in  Greece.  Among  Greek  critics  would 
be  included  Athenaeus  and  Plutarch. 

108  23-24.  as  in  Rome.  This  would 
include  Gellius,  Julius  Caesar,  and  Quintilian. 
See   Quintilian,  Education   of  an   Orator    (tr. 


226        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

Watson)  10.1.72:  'Other  comic  writers,  how- 
ever, if  they  be  read  with  indulgence,  have 
some  good  passages  that  we  may  select,  and 
especially  Philemon,  who,  preferred  as  he 
frequently  was  to  Menander  by  the  bad  taste 
of  his  age,  deserves  in  the  opinion  of  all  critics 
to  be  regarded  as  second  to  him.' 

108  25-26.  comic  force.  Julius  Caesar  uses 
the  expression  'vis  comica  (or  possibly  'comica 
virttis')  in  his  celebrated  lines  on  Terence;  see 
Suetonius  De  Poetis  {Vita  Terenti),  in  Rolfe's 
edition  of  Suetonius,  1914,  2.462: 

Tu    quoque,    tu    in    summis,    o    dimidiate 

Menander, 
poneris,  et  merito,  puri  sermonis  amator. 
lenibus  atque  utinam  scriptis  adiuncta  foret 

vis 
comica,  ut  aequato  virtus  polleret  honore 
cum    Graecis,    neve    hac    despectus    parte 

iaceres ! 
unum    hoc    maceror    ac    doleo    tibi    desse, 

Terenti. 

('Thou,  too,  O  half -Menander,  even  thou, 
art  ranked  among  the  highest,  and  justly,  thou 
lover  of  Latin  undefiled.  And  would  that  to 
thy  limpid  style  had  been  added  comic  force, 
so  that  thy  excellence  might  in  honor  rival 


NOTES  227 

that  of  the  Greeks,  and  thou  not  lie  in  this 
regard  disdained.  For  thy  lack  of  this  one 
quality,  my  Terence,  I  am  hurt  and  pained.') 
I  have  departed  from  Rolfe  in  placing  the 
comma  after  'comica'  rather  than  'vis' — 
following  those  who  interpret  'comica'  with 
'vis'  rather  than  with  'virtus.' 

108  28-109  2.  deprived  ...  of  its  due 
reward  in  Clouds  and  Birds.  The  Athenian 
comic  poet  x\meipsias  twice  won  prizes  above 
Aristophanes,  taking  second  prize  with  the 
Connos,  when  Aristophanes  took  third  with 
the  Clouds,  and  first  with  the  Comastae,  when 
Aristophanes  took  second  with  the  Birds. 
See  note  on  128  7-8.  Aristophanes  ridi- 
cules him  for  low  buffoonery  in  the  Frogs 
12-15;  see  the  edition  of  this  play,  with  trans- 
lation, by  B.  B.  Rogers. 

109  4-5.      Plutarch    .    .    .    comparison. 

See  the  "LvyKpia^us  ' ApL<TTO<pdvovs  Kal  Mevdvdpov 
'En-iTo/iiJ,  a  work  included  under  the  Moralia 
of  Plutarch  (ed.  Dubner,  Paris,  Didot,  1856, 
2.1039-1041),  and  apparently  an  abstract, 
by  another  hand,  from  a  treatise  by  Plutarch. 
See  An  Abstract  of  a  Comparison  betwixt 
Aristophanes  and  Menander  (tr.  William  Bax- 
ter, Gent.),  m  Plutarch's  Morals,  tr.  from  the 


228        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

Greek  by  several  hands,  ed,  Goodwin,  Boston, 
1878,  3.11-14:  'To  speak  in  sum  and  in 
general,  he  [Plutarch]  prefers  Menander  by 
far;  and  as  to  particulars  he  adds  what  here 
ensues.  Aristophanes,  he  saith,  is  importune, 
theatric,  and  sordid  in  his  expression;  but 
Menander  not  so  at  all ;  for  the  rude  and  vul- 
gar person  is  taken  with  the  things  the  former 
speaketh,  but  the  well-bred  man  will  be  quite 
out  of  humor  with  them.  .  .  .  Menander's 
plays  participate  of  a  plenteous  and  divine 
salt,  as  if  they  were  made  of  the  very  sea 
out  of  which  Venus  herself  sprang.  But 
that  of  Aristophanes  is  harsh  and  coarse, 
and  hath  in  it  an  angry  and  biting  sharpness. 
And  for  my  part  I  cannot  tell  where  his  so 
much  boasted  ability  lies,  whether  in  his  style 
or  persons.  The  parts  he  acts  I  am  sure  are 
quite  over-acted  and  depraved.  His  knave, 
for  instance,  is  not  fine,  but  dirty;  his  peasant 
is  not  assured,  but  stupid;  his  droll  is  not 
jocose,  but  ridiculous;  and  his  lover  is  not 
gay,  but  lewd.  So  that  to  me  the  man  seems 
not  to  have  written  his  poesy  for  any  temper- 
ate person,  but  to  have  intended  his  smut 
and  obscenity  for  the  debauched  and  lewd,  his 
invective  and  satire  for  the  malicious  and  ill- 
humored.' 


NOTES  229 

109  9-10.     when    Athenian    beauty    of 
style    was    the    delight    of    his    patrons. 

Plutarch  (c  46-  c  125  a.d.)  may  have  re- 
ceived distmet  marks  of  recognition  from  the 
Emperor  Hadrian,  during  whose  reign  there 
was  a  renaissance  of  Greek  culture  in  the 
Roman  Empire.  The  latter  part  of  liis  life 
ran  into  the  period  of  the  'Atticists,'  for  whom 
the  diction  of  classic  writers  served  as  a  model, 
and  who,  indeed,  did  not  regard  some  of  the 
words  of  Menander  with  favor.  See  Croiset, 
Histoire  de  la  Litterature  Grecque  5 .  038  ff. 
Of  Plutarch  Croiset  (Alfred  Croiset)  says 
(5.489):  'For  a  large  number  of  his  contem- 
poraries, Greeks  or  Hellenizing  Romans,  he 
was  the  authorized  interpreter  of  the  Hellenic 
past — of    its    history,    religion,    morals,    and 


109  14-15.  'verbum  de  verbo.'  'Word  for 
word.'  See  the  Prologue  to  the  Adelphi  of 
Terence  (6-11): 

Synapothnescontes  Diphili  comoediast; 
eam  Commorientis  Plautus  fecit  fabulam. 
in  Graeca  adulescens  est,  qui  lenoni  eripit 
meretricem  in  prima  fabula;   eum  Plautus 
locum 


230       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

reliquit  integrum,     eum  hie  locum  sumpsit 

sibi 
in  Adelphos,  verbum  de  verbo  expressum 

extulit. 

(^Linked  in  Death  is  a  comedy  of  Diphilus, 
the  plot  of  which  Plautus  took  for  his  Cotii- 
morientes.  In  the  Greek  there  is  a  young  man 
who  in  the  first  part  of  the  story  carries  off  a 
courtesan  from  a  procurer,  an  incident  which 
Plautus  entirely  omits.  This  incident  our 
poet  [Terence]  has  utilized  in  Tlie  Brothers, 
translating  it  word  for  word.') 

109  17-18.     remains    conjectural.      Yet 

see  Legrand,  The  New  Greek  Comedy  (Index, 
s.  V.  '  Terence ' ;  and  the  article  on  Roman 
Comedy  by  W.  A.  Oldfather  in  the  Classical 
Weekly  New  York,  May  23,  1914)  7.217-222. 

109  22.     Adeo  modesto  .  .  .  ut  nil  supra. 

Meredith  reads : '  ut  nihil  supra  J'  See  Terence, 
Andria  117-120:  'interea  inter  mulieres  .  ,  . 
unam  aspicio  adulescentulam,  forma  .  .  .  et 
voltu,  Sosia,  adeo  modesto,  adeo  venusto,  ut  nil 
supra.'  ('Presently  among  the  women  .  .  . 
I  beheld  one  girl  whose  figure — [Sosia  in- 
terrupts] and  her  face,  Sosia,  so  modest,  so 
charming,  that  it  couldn't  be  beaten.') 


NOTES  231 

110  1-3.  'she  turned  ...  at  home 
there.'     See  Terence,  Andria  135-136: 

turn  ilia,  ut  consuetum  facile  amorem  cerneres, 
reiecit  se  in  euni  flens  quam  faniiliariter ! 

110  6-7.      he    embellished     them.       See 

the  article  by  Oldfather  mentioned  in  the 
note  on  109  17-18. 

110  18-19.  the  cultivated  Romans. 
'Terence  did  not  please  the  rough  old  con- 
servative Romans;  they  liked  Plautus  better, 
and  the  recurring  mention  of  the  "  vetus  pocta" 
in  his  prologues,  who  plagued  him  with  the 
crusty  critical  view  of  his  productions,  [1877: 
'who  plagued  him  with  their  views  of  his 
productions,']  has  in  the  end  a  comic  ef- 
fect on  the  reader.'  (Meredith's  footnote.) 
See  Duflf,  A  Literary  History  of  Rome,  p.  203: 
'The  Luscius  Lanuvinus  (not  Lavinius),  the 
*'vialiuolus  uetus  -poeta,"  on  whom  Terence 
retorts  in  all  his  prologues  except  that  to  the 
Hecyra.'  On  Plautus  and  Terence  generally 
see  Duff,  pp.  156-201,  203-219. 

110  21-22.  rolling  a  couple  of  his  orig- 
inals into  one.     See  note  on  108  0-7. 

110  24.  Self-Pitier.  'EavThv  YlevBCov  (Lat. 
Se  Lugens).  See  Comicorum  Atticorum  Frag- 
menta,  ed.  Kock,  3.26. 


232        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

110  24.  Self-Chastiser.  'Eavrbv  Tifxupo6- 
fievos  (Lat.  Se  Puniens).  See  the  Ileauton 
Timoruvunos  of  Terence;  compare  notes  on 
108  6-7,  108  11.    And  see  Kock  3.41-44. 

110  25.  Ill-tempered  Man.  ^.vffKo\o$ 
(Lat.  Morosns).    See  Kock  3.3G-41. 

110  25.  Superstitious  {Man\.  Aeiai.daiiJ.wv 
(?Lat.  Swperstitiosus) .      See  Kock  3.32-33. 

110  25-26.  Incredulous  {Man\.  "Atticttos 
(Lat.  Incredulus) .  See  Kock  3.21.  Titles 
like  The  Incredulous  Man,  The  Superstitious 
Man,  The  Ill-tempered  Man,  of  Menander 
remind  us  of  the  Characters  of  Theophrastus 
(tr.  Jebb,  ed.  Sandys,  1899),  where  thirty 
t^'pes  in  all  are  defined  and  described,  includ- 
ing the  Distrustful  (  =  Incredulous)  Man,  the 
Superstitious  Man,  and  the  Surly  Man.  Com- 
pare G.  S.  Gordon,  Theophrastus  and  his 
Imitators  in  English  Literature  and  the  Classics, 
Oxford,  1912,  p.  52:  'To  instruct  and  amuse 
this  municipal  society  Theophrastus  invented 
the  Character,  and  Menander,  his  pupil  in 
philosophy,  perfected  the  Comedy  of  Man- 
ners. It  is  a  significant  conjunction,  not 
peculiar  to  Athens.  You  will  find  that  when- 
ever Characters  are  written  there  is  this  same 
conjunction,  of  character-writing  and  comedy: 
to  every   Theophrastus   his   Menander.     To 


NOTES  233 

Hall,  Overbury,  and  Earle,  the  accepted  imi- 
tators of  Theoplirastus  in  England,  corre- 
sponds Ben  Jonson  with  his  Comedy  of  Hu- 
mors, an  earlier,  harsher,  and  profounder  ver- 
sion of  the  later  Comedy  of  INIanners.  To 
La  Bruyere,  his  prof*^ssed  disciple  in  France, 
corresponds  the  comedy  of  Moliere,  the 
French  Menander.  To  the  Taller  and  Specta- 
tor, the  New  Testament,  as  I  may  call  them, 
of  character-writing  in  England,  corresponds 
the  comedy  of  Congreve,  our  English  Moliere.' 

110  27-111  2.  Terence  .  .  .  died  on  the 
way  home.  But  compare  Duff,  A  Literary 
Historij  of  Rome,  p.  205:  'His  death  in  159 
[b.c]  is  wrapped  in  mystery.  Was  he  lost  at 
sea,  as  one  account  ran,  homeward  bound  with 
a  stock  of  plays  adapted  from  Menander  in 
Menander's  own  country,  or  did  he  die  in 
Arcadia  broken-hearted  over  the  lost  manu- 
scripts of  his  latest  plays.^  '  The  chief  source 
for  a  knowledge  of  his  life  is  the  extract  from 
Suetonius  De  Poetic  preserved  by  Donatus, 
which  contains  disagreeing  statements  taken 
from  the  grammarians;  see  note  on  108  22. 

111  2-3.  The  zealots  of  Byzantium 
completed  the  work  of  destruction. 
Byzantine  literary  history  had  not  been  thor- 
oughly uivestigated  when  Meredith  wrote  this. 


234        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

I  translate  from  Krumbacher,  the  leading 
modern  authority  {Geschichte  der  Byzantin- 
ischen  Litteratur,  1891,  pp.  218-219):  'In  seek- 
ing the  causes  for  the  loss  of  so  many  works,  we 
may  safely  exclude  reUgious  intolerance;  that 
ancient  works  were  destroyed  merely  because 
of  their  pagan  character  can  scarcely  be  main- 
tained. Veritably  fatal,  on  the  other  hand, 
was  the  long  stagnation  of  scholarly  and  liter- 
ary effort  from  the  middle  of  the  seventh  to  the 
middle  of  the  ninth  century.  In  the  tenth  cen- 
tury the  disappearance  of  many  works  may 
have  been  hastened  through  the  encyclopae- 
dias of  Constantine,  which  by  their  handy 
excerpts  were  calculated  to  replace  the  original 
works,  at  least  for  the  needs  of  Church  and 
State,  and,  it  would  seem,  led  to  some  fall- 
ing off  in  the  making  of  complete  transcrip- 
tions. Vast  losses  occurred  through  the  bar- 
barous destruction  and  burning  of  Constanti- 
nople (in  1204)  by  the  Crusaders,  when  not 
only  countless  works  of  art,  but  documents 
and  books,  perished.'  Compare  Gilbert  Mur- 
ray, The  '^ Tradition'  of  Greek  Literature,  in 
Cooper,  The  Greek  Genius  and  its  Influence, 
1917  (esp.  pp.  177-181). 

Ill  4—5.     four  comedies  of  Terence  ... 
six  of  Menander.     See  note  on  108  6-7. 


NOTES  235 

111  5.  a  few  sketches  of  plots.  See 
notes  on  107  24,  107  26-27. 

Ill  8.     Harpagon.    See  note  on  96  20. 

Ill  8-9.  a  multitude  of  small  frag- 
ments. See  notes  on  107  10-11,  108  16-17, 
and  Comicorum  Atticorum  Fragmenta,  ed. 
Kock,  3.3-272  (esp.  151-272). 

Ill   17.     Menedemus.  See  note  on  108  11. 

Ill  19-20.  Menander  and  Moliere  have 
given  the  principal  types  to  comedy.  But 
see  note  on  110  25-26.  And  consider  the  type, 
say,  of  the  Braggart  Captain  {Miles  GloriostLs) 
of  Plautus,  with  its  relations,  on  the  one 
hand,  to  the  Hercules  of  Euripides'  Alcestis, 
and  the  mock-Hercules  (Dionysus)  of  Aristo- 
phanes' Frogs,  and,  on  the  other,  to  the 
Falstaff  of  Shakespeare. 

Ill  26.  Orgon.  See  Le  Tartuffe  of  Mo- 
liere, and  note  on  77  23. 

Ill  27.  Thraso.  A  braggart  (Gr.  Opiauv, 
connected  with  ^pao-i/s,  hold,  over-hold). 
The  name  of  a  swaggering  captain  in  the 
Eunuchus  of  Terence.  Compare  the  Miles 
Gloriosus  of  Plautus. 

Ill  27.  Alceste.  See  Le  Misanthrope^ 
and  compare  notes  on  94  12-13  and  95  27- 
96  2. 


236       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

111  28.  'Manlys.'  Manly  is  the  hero  of 
Wycherley's  The  Plain  Dealer,  greatly  de- 
based from  his  prototype  in  Le  Misanthrope. 

111  28.  Davus  and  Syrus.  These  are 
names  commonly  given  to  slaves  in  Roman 
comedy.  See  the  familiar  'Davus  sum,  non 
Oedipus,'  in  Terence  (Andria  194);  the  cor- 
responding Greek  name,  Ados,  is  so  char- 
acteristic that  Legrand  has  used  it  for  the 
title  of  the  French  work  frequently  mentioned 
in  the  English  translation  (The  New  Greek 
Comedy)  in  the  foregoing  notes.  For  Syrus 
see  Terence,  Adelphi  and  Heauton  Timoru- 
menos. 

112  1.  Scapins.  Scapin,  whose  original 
was  found  in  Italian  (Milanese)  comedy,  is 
the  central  figure  in  Les  Fourberies  de  Scapin 
(1671)   of  Mohere. 

112  1.  Figaros.  Figaro  is  the  hero  of 
Le  Barhier  de  Seville  and  Le  Mariage  de  Figaro 
of  Beaumarchais  (1732-1799);  in  the  first  a 
barber,  in  the  second  a  valet  de  chambre.  In 
both  he  outwits  every  one  with  whom  he  has 
dealings.  Littre  {Diet,  de  la  Langue  Frangaise) 
calls  him  'Barhier  spirituel  et  malin;  valet 
adroit  et  peu  genS  par  sa  conscience.'  The  name 
has  passed  into  common  speech,  and  denotes 


NOTES  237 

an  intriguer,  or  go-between,  or  in  general  any- 
adroit  or  unscrupulous  person.  Mozart  has 
utilized  Le  Mariage  de  Figaro  as  the  basis  of 
an  opera;  see  also  II  Barhiere  de  Seviglia  of 
Rossini. 

112  2.  the  realms  of  rose-pink.  See 
note  on  88  28;  and  compare  Carlyle,  French 
Revolution  1.2.3:  'If  we  pierce  through  that 
rose-pink  vapor  of  Sentimentalism,  Pliilan- 
thropy,  and  Feasts  of  Morals.'  Compare  also 
Meredith,  Diana  of  the  Crossways  (1885): 
'Rose-pink  and  dirty  drab  will  .  .  .  have 
passed  away.' 

112  4-5.  Philaminte  and  Belise.  See 
notes  on  96  25-27,  97  6-7. 

112  7.  Celimene.  See  pp.  92,  93,  102- 
106. 

112  23-26.    *Et  Tartuffe?'  .  .  .  'Lepauvre 

homme!'  In  this  scene  {Tartuffe  1.5)  Orgon 
utters  each  of  these  expressions  four  times,  at 
regular  intervals  in  the  dialogue. 

113  8-11.  Un  rien  .  .  .  trop  de  colere. 
See  Le  Tariuffe  1.6.49-52:  'A  mere  nothing 
suffices  to  scandalize  liim — to  the  point  that, 
just  the  other  day,  he  accused  himself  of 
having  caught  a  flea  wliile  he  was  praying,  and 
of  having  killed  it  too  wrathfully.' 


238        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

113  12-15.  And  to  have  killed  it  .  .  . 
pure  tones  without  flourish.  This  passage 
appears  in  1877,  and  in  our  text,  but  is 
omitted  in  the  Edition  de  Luxe  of  Meredith 
(Vol.  32,  Westminster,  1898,  p.  41). 

113  16—17.  another  dupe  in  Madame 
Pernelle.     See  Le  Tartuffe  5.3. 

113  25-26.  hints  for  a  Tartuffe  ...  in 
Boccaccio.  That  is,  in  the  Decameron;  for 
example:  First  Day,  Fourth  Story;  Third 
Day,  Fourth  Story  and  Eighth  Story. 

113  27.  Machiavelli's  Mandragola.  See 
R.  Warwick  Bond,  Early  Plays  from  the 
Italian,  1911,  p.  xviii:  'Another  competitor 
for  the  priority  is  Niccolo  Machiavelli  (1469- 
1527),  whose  lostZ-e  Maschere  (1504)  satirized 
contemporaries  in  imitation  of  the  Clouds  of 
Aristophanes,  and  whose  La  Mandragola  and 
Clizia  .  .  .  were  composed  between  1512- 
1520.  The  Mandragola  is  held  by  many 
critics  as  the  best  of  all  Renaissance  comedies; 
an  opinion  I  cannot  share,  feeling  it  far  sur- 
passed in  vigor  and  variety,  in  ease  and  nat- 
uralness of  conduct,  and  in  humor,  both  by 
La  Cassaria  and  I  Suppositi  [of  Ludovico 
Ariosto  (1474-1533)];  while  its  subject,  the 
corruption  of  an  innocent  young  wife  by  her 


4 

NOTES  239 

mother  and  confessor,  is  one  that  could  only- 
cease  to  be  repellent  if  treated  with  the  high 
seriousness  and  passion  of  tragedy.'  Com- 
pare Villari,  Lije  and  Times  of  Niccold 
Machiavelli  (English  translation),  1898. 

114  4-8.  Frate  Timoteo  has  a  .  .  . 
orazione,  st.  In  1877  Meredith's  sentence 
and  the  quotation  constituted  a  footnote.  In 
the  text  came  the  sentence,  subsequently 
omitted:  'Native  Italian  comedy  did  not  ad- 
vance beyond  the  state  of  satire,  and  the 
priests  were  the  principal  objects  of  it.'  See 
Bond,  Early  Plays  from  the  Italian,  p.  xv: 
'The  drama  of  modern  Europe  begins  in 
Italy  early  in  the  sixteenth  century  with  the 
work  of  Ariosto,  Bibbiena,  Machiavelli,  and 
their  successors,  work  which  was  a  direct 
derivative  from  that  of  ancient  Rome  as  rep- 
resented by  Plautus  and  Terence.' 

114  6-8.  DONNA.  Credete  voi  .  .  .  si. 
See  Machiavelli,  La  Mandragola  1.3: 

LADY.  Do  you  believe  that  the  Turk  will 
come  to  Italy  this  year  ? 

FRATE  TIMOTEO.    If  you  do  not  pray,  yes. 

114  12-14.  Goldoni  sketched  the  Vene- 
tian manners  .  .  .  with  a  French  penciL 

The  Venetian  Republic  was  in  a  state  of  decay 


240       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

throughout  the  eighteenth  century.  Carlo 
Goldoni  (1707-1793),  after  a  shifting  Hfe 
in  various  cities  of  Northern  Italy,  settled  in 
Venice,  his  birthplace,  in  1740.  Early  in- 
fluenced by  the  Mandragola  of  Machiavelli,  he 
determined  to  effect  a  revolution  in  Italian 
comedy;  he  produced  a  great  number  of  plays 
in  imitation  of  Moliere,  depicting  Venetian 
society,  the  aristocracy  as  well  as  the  bour- 
geoisie. In  1761  he  was  induced  to  visit 
Paris,  to  write  for  the  Italian  theatre,  and 
shortly  became  attached  to  the  Court  of 
Louis  the  Fifteenth.  One  of  his  best  comedies, 
Le  Bourru  Bienfaisant,  in  French,  was  pro- 
duced for  the  occasion  of  the  wedding  of 
Louis  the  Sixteenth  and  Marie  Antoinette 
(1770).  In  an  Italian  comedy,  II  Moliere 
(1751),  he  patterns  one  of  his  characters, 
Pirlone,  a  hypocrite,  after  Tartuffe.  A 
rapid  writer,  he  composed  upward  of  120 
comedies;  the  first  collected  edition  of  his 
works  (1788-1789)  was  in  44  volumes.  See 
H.  C.  Chatfield-Taylor,  Goldoni,  a  Biography, 
New  York,  1913. 

114  17-18.  furnished  the  idea  of  the 
Menteur  to  Corneille.  The  French  tragic 
poet  Pierre  Corneille  (1606-1684),  in  the 
EpUre  and  the  Examen  preceding  his  comedy 


NOTES  241 

Le  Menteur  (1644),  gives  us  to  understand 
that  'this  piece  is  in  part  translated,  in  part 
imitated,'  from  a  Spanish  play.  La  Verdad 
Sospechosa,  which  he  at  first  accidentally 
attributed  to  Lope  de  Vega,  but  which  was 
actually  written,  as  Corneille  subsequently 
recognized,  by  Juan  Ruiz  de  Alarcon  y 
Mendoza  (1581-1639);  see  Oeuvres  de  P. 
Corneille  {Les  Grands  Ecrivains  de  la  France), 
ed.  Marty-Laveaux,  1862-1867,  4.  119,  131, 
137.  241-273. 

114  25.  the  corps  de  ballet.  The  chorus 
of  dancers  in  light  opera. 

115  4.  afaimados.  Meredith  reads  '  aj- 
faimados' — a  possible,  but  less  usual,  spell- 
ing; as  he  says,  the  word  means  'famine- 
stricken,'  that  is,  famished,  hungry,  eager,  very 
eager.    The  customary  form  is  esfaimados. 

115  6.  Don  Juan.  See  Fitzmaurice- 
Kelly,  A  History  of  Spanish  Literature  (1898), 
p.  312:  'Whether  or  not  there  existed  an 
historic  Don  Juan  at  Plasencia  or  at  Seville 
is  doubtful,  for  folklorists  have  found  the 
story  as  far  away  from  Spain  as  Iceland  is;  but 
it  is  Tirso's  glory  to  have  so  treated  it  that 
the  world  has  accepted  it  as  a  purely  Spanish 
conception.'     The   reference   is   to   Tirso   de 


242       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

Molina  (1571-1648)  and  his  Burlador  de 
Sevilla  y  Convidado  de  Piedra  {The  Seville 
Mocker  and  the  Stone  Guest),  which  was  first 
printed  in  1630,  in  a  collection  of  plays  by- 
Lope  de  Vega  and  others.  For  the  relations 
between  the  story  of  the  vengeful  Spanish 
libertine  and  Moliere's  comedy  of  Don  Juan, 
Mozart's  opera,  and  Byron's  mock-epic,  see 
G.  Gendarme  de  Bevotte,  I/i  Legende  de  Don 
Juan,  Paris,  1906. 

115  13-17.   Atta  Troll  .  .  .  Pyrenean  bear. 

The  allusion  is  to  Atta  TroU,  a  politico- 
satirical  poem  in  27  chapters  by  Heinrich 
Heine  (1797-1856),  published  in  part  in  1843, 
published  completely  in  1846.  Heine  says 
(Life  by  Stigand,  1875,  2.297) :  'It  is  a  politico- 
romantic  poem,  and  will  presumably  give  the 
death-blow  to  the  prosaic,  bombastic  ten- 
dency-poetry.' In  this  'swan-song  of  roman- 
ticism,' the  note  is  that  of  the  mock-heroic 
poems  on  the  theme  of  Roland,  and  hence 
the  scenes  in  the  Pyrenees  (Atta  Troll  1.9-20, 
in  Heine's  Werke,  ed.  Elster,  2.355): 

Herzlich  lachend  schaun  sie  nieder 
Auf  den  wimmelnd  bunten  Marktplatz, 
Wo  da  tanzen  Bar  und  Barin 
Bei  des  Dudelsackes  Klangen. 


NOTES  243 

Atta  Troll  und  seine  Gattin, 
Die  geheissen  schwarze  Mumma, 
Sind  die  Tanzer,  und  es  jubeln 
Vor  bewundrung  die  Baskesen. 

Steif  und  ernsthaft,  mit  Grandezza, 
Tanzt  der  edle  Atta  Troll; 
Doch  der  zott'gen  Ehehalfte 
Fehlt  die  WUrde,  fehlt  der  Anstand. 

('Heartily  laughing  they  look  down  upon 
the  swarming  motley  market-place  where 
dance  the  bear  and  she-bear  to  the  sound  of 
the  bagpipes.  Atta  Troll  and  his  spouse,  her 
name  Black  Mumma,  are  the  dancers,  and 
the  Basques  are  jubilant  with  admiration. 
Stiff  and  solemn,  with  a  grand  air,  dances  the 
noble  Atta  Troll;  but  his  shaggy  better  half 
lacks  dignity,  lacks  decorum.') 

115  13-14.  Lessing  tried  his  hand  at 
it.  Gotthold  Ephraim  Lessing  (1729-1781^ 
in  his  earlier  life  wrote  comedies  modeled  upon 
the  French.  His  later  Nathan  der  Weise 
(1779),  and,  more  particularly,  Minna  von 
Barnhelm  (1767),  commonly  regarded  as  the 
first  great  national  comedy  in  German  litera- 
ture, hardly  deserve  the  sweeping  censure  of 
Meredith. 


244       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

115  19.  Jean  Paul  Richter.  Johann 
Paul  Friedrich  Richter  (1763-1825),  better 
known  by  his  pen-name  'Jean  Paul,'  a  Ger- 
man humorist  of  imagination  and  sentiment, 
whose  writings  had  an  influence  upon  Car- 
lyle,  and  hence  upon  Meredith,  not  merely  in 
point  of  style,  but  in  thought  as  well.  See 
Carlyle,  Miscellaneous  Essays  and  Life  of 
Jean  Paul  F.  Richter. 

lis  20-21.  the  contrast  of  Siebenkas 
with  his  Lenette.  See  Blumen-,  Frucht-,  und 
Dornenstiicke,  oder  Ehestand,  Tod,  und  Hoch- 
zeit  des  Armenadvocaten  F.  St.  Siebenkas  im 
Reicfismarktflecken  Kuhschnappel,  von  Jean 
Paul,  Berlin,  1796.  {Flower-,  Fruit-,  and 
Thorn-Pieces,  or  the  Married  State,  Death,  and 
Wedding  of  Counsel  for  the  Poor,  F.  St.  Sie- 
benkas, of  the  Imperial  Market-Town  of 
Kuhschnappel  [etc.]).  I  translate  from  the 
Introduction  by  Paul  Nerrlich  {Jeaji  Pauls 
Werke,  Zweiter  Teil,  1885,  pp.  iv-v):  'Sie- 
benkas lives — and  therewith  we  have  said 
much — in  the  Imperial  Market-town  of 
Kuhschnappel,  as  Jean  Paul  himself  lived  in 
Hof ;  he  groans  under  the  burden  of  a  position 
with  which  he  is  not  content;  he  is  poor;  and 
he  is  married  to  a  wife  who,  in  herself  alto- 
gether exemplary  and  excellent,  and  undeni- 


NOTES  245 

ably  possessed  of  a  certain  superiority  of  soul, 
is  nevertheless  absolutely  unsuited  to  her 
gifted  husband,  for  the  reason  that,  a  born 
housekeeper,  she  has  her  limitations  and  does 
not  understand  him.  The  timid,  unassuming, 
oberlient  Lenette,  with  her  full,  round,  rosy  lit- 
tle face  is  the  most  plastic  character  among  all 
the  remarkable  women  Jean  Paul  has  created. 
Inspiring,  of  course,  she  can  hardly  appear; 
but  she  comes  before  us  as  a  real  person,  and 
we  follow  her  career  with  Hvely  sympathy. 
For  this  one  figure  of  Lenette  the  nineteenth- 
century  reader  would  readily  exchange  all  the 
Beatas,  Clotildas,  Natalies,  and  Winifreds, 
and  all  the  rest  of  the  "beautiful  souls"  with 
their  various  names.' 

115  21-22.  A  light  of  the  comic  is  in 
Goethe.  For  example,  in  his  Reinecke  Fucks 
(1793),  and  in  the  Mephistopheles  of  Faust; 
compare  also  the  scene  of  the  Hexenkuche  in 
Faust.  Three  years  before  his  death  Meredith 
thought  that  the  influence  of  'the  noble' 
Goethe  had  been  'the  most  enduring'  in- 
fluence in  his  life  (see  Introduction,  p.  15). 

115  25-26.  Barbarossa  in  the  hollows  of 
the  Untersberg.  Frederick  I  (11 23 .Ml 90) 
of  the  Holy  Roman  Empire,  called  Barbarossa 


246        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

(Red-beard),  was  drowned  in  Cilicia  wliile 
leading  the  Third  Crusade.  According  to 
Bryce  his  bones  were  interred  at  Tyre;  but 
there  has  been  uncertainty  regarding  the 
place  of  liis  burial.  In  time,  a  popular  legend 
which  appears  in  connection  with  other  heroes 
of  various  countries  became  attached  to  his 
name,  after  having  been  associated  with  that 
of  Frederick  II.  See  Bryce,  The  Holy  Roman 
Empire  (1909),  p.  181:  'To  the  southwest  of 
the  green  plain  that  girdles  in  the  rock  of 
Salzburg  [in  Austria],  the  gigantic  mass  of  the 
Untersberg  frowns  over  the  road  which  winds 
up  a  long  defile  to  the  glen  and  lake  of  Berch- 
tesgaden.  There,  far  up  among  its  limestone 
crags,  in  a  spot  scarcely  accessible  to  human 
foot,  the  peasants  of  the  valley  point  out  to 
the  traveler  the  black  mouth  of  a  cavern,  and 
tell  that  within  the  red-bearded  Emperor  lies 
amid  his  knights  in  an  enchanted  sleep,  wait- 
ing the  hour  when  the  ravens  shall  cease  to 
hover  round  the  peak,  and  the  pear-tree  blos- 
som in  the  valley,  to  descend  with  his  Cru- 
saders and  bring  back  to  Germany  the  golden 
age  of  peace  and  strength  and  unity.'  The 
history  of  the  legend  has  been  studied  by 
Georg  Voigt  {Historische  Zeitschrift  26.131- 
,187)  and  Sigmund  Riezler    {ibid.    32.63-75). 


NOTES  247 

Meredith  no  doubt  was  familiar  with  Riick- 
ert's  ballad,  Barharossa  (1813): 

Der  alte  Barbarossa, 
Der  Kaiser  Friederich. 

In  tliis  tlie  hero,  every  hundred  years,  though 
imperfectly  awake,  bids  his  dwarf  go  forth 
to  see  whether  the  ravens  still  'hover  round 
the  peak.'  But  here  the  scene  accords  with 
the  version  of  the  story  which  places  the  cave 
in  Thuringia,  '  m  the  high  and  steep  hill  of  the 
Kyffhauser  '  (Bryce). 

116  5-6.       volkslied     or      marchen.       A 

volksUed  is  a  popular  or  national  song,  or  a 
popular  ballad;  a  marchen  is  a  fairy-tale  or 
traditional  popular  story. 

116  25-26.  susceptible  to  laughter,  as 
the  Arabian  Nights  will  testify.  See,  for 
example,  The  Story  of  the  Porter  and  the  Ladies 
of  Baghdad  (The  Arabian  Nights'  Entertain- 
ments, tr.  Lane,  ed.  Stanley  Lane-Poole,  1914, 
1.56  ff.). 

117  7.  Saint-Marc  Girardin.  Fran- 
cois Auguste  Marc  Girardin  (1801-1873), 
known  as  Saint-Marc  Girardin,  a  French 
journalist,  literary  man,  and  politician,  very 
prolific  as  a  writer  on  various  subjects.     He 


248        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

traveled  in  the  Orient,  and  gave  no  little  at- 
tention to  questions  touching  the  near  East. 
See  his  Souvenirs  de  Voyages  et  d'Etudes, 
in  two  volumes  (1852,  1853);  Souvenirs  et 
Reflexions  Politiques  d\in  Journaliste  (1859); 
La  Syrie  en  1861,  Condition  des  Chretiens 
en  Orient  (1862).  Under  present  conditions, 
these  works  are  inaccessible  to  me. 

118  3.  There  has  been  fun  in  Bagdad. 
See  note  on  116  25-26;  and  compare  Mere- 
dith's own  sometimes  tender,  sometimes  bois- 
terous, tale.  The  Shaving  of  Shagpat  (1855),  a 
burlesque  imitation  of  Oriental  story-telling. 

120  14-15.  partaking  of  the  foolish- 
ness to  comic  perception.  One  is  tempted 
to  regard  'the'  before  'foolishness'  as  a 
printer's  error,  and  to  read:  'partaking  of 
foolishness  to  the  comic  perception.' 

121  24-25.  spirits  that  .  .  .  will 
come  when  you  do  call.  Compare  Shake- 
speare, 1  King  Henry  the  Fourth  3.1.53-55: 

GLENDOWER. 

I  can  call  spirits  from  the  vasty  deep. 

HOTSPUR. 

Why,  so  can  I,  or  so  can  any  man; 
But  will  they  come  when  you  do  call  for 
them.' 


NOTES  249 

122   13.      Johnsonian      polysyllables. 

Compare  Osgood,  Selections  from  the  Works 
of  Samuel  Johnson,  New  York,  1909,  Intro- 
duction, p.  xxxii:  'In  these  latter  days  of 
literary  informality  Johnson's  preference  for 
words  of  Latin  origin  is  not  much  liked.  It 
has  been  often  assumed  that  he  made  easy 
things  hard  in  his  fondness  for  polysyllabic 
grandeur,  but  the  test  of  actual  and  intelli- 
gent reading  will  show  how  sincere  was  his 
hatred  of  "that  offense  which  is  always  given 
by  unusual  words."  If  the  reader  sometimes 
comes  upon  things  "equiponderant"  or 
"colorific,"  or  hears  of  "the  tortuosities  of 
imaginary  rectitude,"  yet  he  has  no  doubt  at 
all  of  Johnson's  meaning.  Like  many  great 
literary  men  he  was  a  conservative  in  lan- 
guage, and  strongly  averse  to  coinage  or 
importation;  he  chooses  no  words  which  are 
not  in  good  English  standing.' 

122  18.  Due  Pasquier.  Here  and  sub- 
sequently Meredith  printed  'Duke'  Pas- 
quier. The  story  concerns  Etienne  Denis, 
Due  de  Pasquier  (17G7-1862),  an  eminent 
and  highly-respected  French  statesman,  who 
lived  through  the  Revolution,  held  office  un- 
der the  Empire,  and  was  chancellor  and  duke 
under    Louis-Philippe.       His     Memoirs    ap- 


2S0        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

peared  posthumously  (1893-1894).  Meredith 
may  have  learned  something  of  him  by  word 
of  mouth;  or  possibly  through  a  series  of 
articles  on  Pasquier  by  Saint-Marc  Girar- 
din  in  the  Journal  des  DSbats  for  September 
and  October,  1862,  which  I  have  been  unable 
to  consult;  but  more  probably  through  the 
work  of  Louis  Favre,  Estienne  Denis  Pasquier 
.  .  .  Souvenirs  de  son  Dernier  Secretaire,  Paris, 
1870  (esp.  pp.  438  ff.). 

123  25-26.  Imagine  an  Aristophanic 
comedy  of  the  Centenarian.  The  subject 
is  scarcely  Aristophanic,  since  the  extant 
comedies  of  Aristophanes  all  have  some  rela- 
tion to  the  interests  of  the  State;  the  main 
idea  of  each  play  is  more  general  than  this. 
The  situation  described  by  Meredith  bears  a 
faint  resemblance  to  the  debate  between 
Admetus  and  his  aged  father  in  the  Alcestis 
of  Euripides,  a  'satyric'  tragedy  containing 
certain  elements  of  comedy.  Possibly  the 
subject  would  have  been  more  suited  to  the 
New  Comedy — but  indeed  it  is  more  in  keep- 
ing with  Meredith's  conception  of  Moliere, 
save  for  his  allusions  to  the  Chorus,  which  has 
something  of  the  Aristophanic  flavor. 

124  5—6.  an  accurate  measurement. 
Compare,   perhaps,   the   test   of   the   relative 


NOTES  251 

excellence  of  Aeschylus  and  Euripides  in  the 
Frogs  of  Aristophanes,  where  verses  of  the  rival 
poets  are  weighed  in  a  huge  pair  of  scales. 

125  5.     Dulness.     See  note  on  80  20. 

125  18.  throw  off  incubus,  our  dread- 
ful familiar.  See  New  English  Dictionary: 
'Incubus  ...  in  the  Middle  Ages  often  rep- 
resented as  a  malignant  demon  who  lay  upon 
men  and  women.  ...  A  person  or  thing  that 
weighs  upon  and  oppresses  like  a  nightmare.' 

126  12-14.  A  political  Aristophanes  .  .  . 
too  much  for  political  Athens.  This  no- 
tion, current  in  the  time  of  Meredith,  needs 
to  be  revised.  The  attack  on  the  poet  by 
Cleon,  aroused  by  the  comedy  of  the  Baby- 
lonians (see  Acharnians  377  ff.),  was  un- 
successful. 'The  words  of  Aristophanes,  "I 
almost  perished,"  appear  simply  to  indicate 
that  his  adversary  managed  to  get  together  a 
fairly  strong  minority'  (Croiset,  Aristophanes 
and  the  Political  Parties  at  Athens,  p.  51). 
Still  it  is  to  be  noted  that  for  a  time  the  poet 
did  not  attack  either  Cleon  or  the  demagogues 
as  a  class.  Again,  the  nature  of  the  supposed 
law  of  Syracosius  limiting  the  license  of 
Athenian  comedy  is  very  doubtful;  see 
Croiset,  ibid.,  pp.  118-119:  'In  a  fragment  of 


252       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

the  Hermit  by  Phrynichus,  performed  in  414, 
.  .  .  the  poet  expressed  the  wish  that  Syra- 
cosius  might  get  the  mange;  "for,"  said  he, 
"'he  has  deprived  me  of  the  Hberty  of  putting 
those  into  my  comedy  whom  I  wished  to." 
,  .  .  The  schoHast  of  Aristophanes  who  quotes 
this  fragment  adds:  "/i  seems  that  Syracosius 
passed  a  decree  which  forbade  the  introduc- 
tion of  any  person  by  name  in  comedy."  We 
see  that  this  statement  is  based  on  a  con- 
jecture, which  appears  to  have  the  Hnes  of 
Phrynichus  as  its  only  foundation.  They 
evidently  allude  to  an  actual  occurrence,  but 
we  do  not  know  what  this  occurrence  was.  .  .  . 
In  any  event  the  alleged  decree  is  very  im- 
probable in  itself.  Comedies  performed  about 
the  year  414  abound  in  proper  names  and 
satirical  allusions  to  contemporaries.' 

126  12-13.  taking  advantage  of  his 
lyrical  Bacchic  license.  See  the  speech 
of  Dicaeopolis  in  the  Acharnians  497-504 
(Rogers'  translation): 

Bear  me  no  grudge,  spectators,  if,  a  beggar, 
I  dare  to  speak  before  the  Athenian  people 
About  the  city  in  a  comic  play; 
For  what  is  true  even  comedy  can  tell. 
And  I  shall  utter  startling  things  but  true. 


NOTES  253 

Nor  now  can  Cleon  slander  me  because. 
With  strangers  present,  I  defame  the  State. 
'Tis  the  Lenaea,  and  we  're  all  alone. 

In  the  Babylonians  (see  preceding  note),  a 
lost  play,  Aristophanes  seems  to  have  given 
Cleon  a  handle  for  a  dangerous  suit  against 
him,  since  utterances  touching  the  State  had 
been  made  in  a  comedy  performed  at  the 
festival  of  the  Great  Dionysia,  when  for- 
eigners were  present;  whereas  the  Acharnians 
was  produced  at  the  Lenaea  (another  festival 
in  honor  of  Bacchus),  when  foreigners  were 
not  present. 

126  20-21.  He  hated  .  .  .  the  Sophist. 
In  the  Clouds  (see  the  edition  of  B.  B.  Rogers, 
and  also  that  of  Starkie,  each  containing  a 
translation)  Aristophanes  ridicules  the  Soph- 
ists in  the  figure  of  Socrates. 

126  22.  the  poet.  Euripides  is  fre- 
quently held  up  for  ridicule  by  Aristophanes, 
but  particularly  in  the  Frogs  (see  Rogers* 
edition,  with  translation,  or  the  translation 
by  Gilbert  Murray). 

126  22-23.  the  demagogue,  'the  saw- 
toothed  monster.'  The  reference  is  to 
Cleon  {Wasps  1031): 

dpaaiois  ^vffTCLS  fvdvs  (xtt'  dpxv^  avrQ  rip  Kapx^^P^^ovri. 


254        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

('In  the  very  beginning  of  his  bold  career 
he  [Aristophanes]  grappled  with  the  jag- 
toothed  monster.')  See  also  Knights  1017, 
and  Peace  754.  The  poet  represents  liim- 
self  as  another  Heracles;  his  first  labor,  the 
struggle  with  Cleon  (in  the  Knights),  being 
followed  by  his  encounter  with  the  Sophists 
(in  the  Clouds). 

126  26-27.      fines,  the  curtailing   of   his 
comic  license.     See  note  on  126  12-13. 

126  28-127  1-5.  could  no  longer  support 
the  expense  of  the  chorus.  In  the  first  nine 
•^of  the  extant  plays  of  Aristophanes  the  chorus 
is  conspicuous  and  important.  In  the  tenth, 
the  Ecclesiazusae,  its  functions  are  much  cur- 
tailed, and  in  the  last,  the  Plutus,  'it  has  only 
about  forty  lines  assigned  to  it  in  the  course 
of  the  dialogue,  and  in  the  pauses  between  the 
dialogue  it  sang  interludes  unconnected  with 
the  plot'  (Haigh,  The  Attic  Theatre,  1907, 
p.  287) .  But  it  did  not  entirely  disappear  even 
in  the  earlier  poets  of  the  New  Comedy  {ibid., 
p.  288).  Compare  Croiset,  Histoire  de  la 
LittSrature  Grecque  3.530-531  (I  translate): 
'When  Athens  was  taken  and  conquered  by 
Lysander,  its  institutions  were  temporarily 
destroyed.  The  city  had  to  endure  the  tyranny 


NOTES  255 

pf  the  Thirty,  and  then  the  civil  war  for  the 
restoration  of  the  democracy.  When  the 
amnesty  had  been  proclaimed  the  city 
breathed  again,  but  it  was  impo\'erished.  .  .  . 
People  were  no  longer  rich  enough  to  take 
upon  themselves  the  expense  of  representa- 
tions; the  chorus  was  reduced  until  it  amounted 
to  very  little,  the  parabasis  being  suppressed. 
The  poet  [Aristophanes]  .  .  .  had  to  accom- 
modate liimself,  in  the  second  part  of  his  life, 
to  this  new  regime.' 

127  5.  Marathon  and  Salamis.  The 
plain  of  Marathon  was  the  scene  of  the  de- 
cisive battle  of  the  Persians  of  Darius  under 
Datis  by  the  Greeks  under  Miltiades  in 
490  B.C.  Ten  years  later  the  fleet  of  Xerxes, 
son  of  Darius,  was  destroyed  by  the  Greek 
navy  at  Salamis.  Aristophanes  (c  444-  c  385 
B.C.)  refers  to  the  'men  of  Marathon,  hard 
in  grain  as  their  own  oak  and  maple,'  in  the 
Acharnians  181,  and  makes  other  comparable 
allusions;  see  also  the  allusion  to  Marathon 
and  Salamis  in  the  Knights  781-785.  After 
the  naval  victory  of  the  Spartans  under 
Lysander  at  Aegospotami  in  405  B.C.,  the 
humiliation  of  Athens  was  complete  (404). 

127  7.  pleaded  for  peace.  That  is,  in 
the   Acharnians,   the   Peace,   and   the  Lysis- 


256        THE   IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

trata;  see  the  editions,  with  translations,  of 
Rogers. 

127  8-9.  the  captious  old  creature 
Demus.  A  personification  of  the  Athenian 
people  in  Aristophanes'  Knights;  'the  John 
Bull  of  Athens,'  as  Hookham  Frere  puts  it. 

127  14-15.  Xenophon,  the  disciple  of 
Socrates.  See  The  Works  of  Xeiwphon, 
translated  by  H.  G.  Dakyns,  London,  1897; 
especially  the  Memorabilia,  in  Vol.  3. 

127  15.  by  his  trained  rhetoric.  After 
the  death  of  Cyrus,  the  Greek  army,  over  a 
thousand  miles  from  home,  had  become  de- 
moralized through  the  treacherous  murder  of 
their  officers  by  the  Persian  satrap  Tissa- 
phernes.  Hereupon,  Xenophon,  though  but 
nominally  attached  to  the  army,  made 
a  masterly  address,  outlining  plans  for  the 
retreat,  and  won  the  confidence  of  the  sur- 
viving leaders;  he  then  successfully  directed 
the  hojtneward  march.  See  the  Anabasis, 
Book  3,  chapters  1,  2. 

127  18-19.  mercenary  Greek  expedi- 
tion under  Cyrus.  See  Xenophon,  Anabasis, 
Book  1,  chapter  1. 

127  19-20.  Athens  .  .  .  was  on  a  land- 
slip, falling.     Compare  Aristophanes,  Wasps 


NOTES  257 

(422    B.C.)     1232-1235;    the    allusion    is    to 
Cleon : 

Mon,  lustin'  for  power  supreme,  ye  '11  mak' 
The  city  capseeze;  she  's  noo  on  the  shak'. 

Rogers,  who  thus  translates,  adds  that  the 
Scholiast  says  these  lines  are  borrowed  from 
Alcaeus. 

127  23.  The  aloe  had  bloomed.  The 
allusion  seems  to  be  to  the  Agave  americana 
(of  a  genus  found  in  Mexico  and  Central 
America),  which  is  popularly  confused  with 
the  Aloes,  and  commonly  known  as  the 
American  aloe.  This  sends  up  a  vertical 
scape  24-36  feet  in  height,  bearing  throughout 
its  length  sometimes  as  many  as  4,000  flowers. 
After  flowering,  the  plant  dies  down,  new 
plants  arising  from  lateral  buds  at  the  ground. 
According  to  an  erroneous  popular  notion  it 
blooms  once  in  a  hundred  years;  and  hence 
the  name  'century-plant.'  Compare  the 
second  sentence  of  Pater's  essay.  The  Poetry 
of  Michelangelo  (1873) :  'A  certain  strangeness, 
something  of  the  blossoming  of  the  aloe,  is 
indeed  an  element  in  all  true  works  of  art.' 

127  23-27.  Whether  right  or  wrong 
.  .  .  there  is  an  idea.  The  construction  of 
the  sentence  is  loose. 


258        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

127  27-28.    the  idea  of  good  citizenship. 

Compare  Croiset  {Aristophanes  and  the  Polit- 
ical Parties  at  Athens,  p.  163):  'His  ideal  does 
not  appear  to  have  changed;  it  is  always 
that  of  a  frankly  democratic  city,  but  one  in 
which  the  greatest  influence  would  have  been 
in  the  hands  of  a  moderate  element,  of  the 
class  of  hoplites  who  were  able  to  furnish  their 
own  equipment,  or  of  the  small  landowners^ 
in  a  word,  of  the  rural  democracy.  .  .  .  While 
the  poet  continues  to  fight  the  influential 
demagogues,  he  does  not  attribute  to  any  of 
them  the  baneful  importance  which  he  for- 
merly attributed  to  Cleon,  nor  does  he  aim  at 
any  particular  reform  in  the  State.  .  .  .  The 
idea  of  harmony,  of  sincere  reconciliation,  of 
close  union  with  a  view  to  the  common  good, 
is  what  constantly  inspires  him.' 

128  2-3.     Swift    says    of    him.      In    the 

quotation,  Meredith  reads,  'But  as  for'  and 
'The  dog  too  witty.'  I  have  restored  the 
proper  readings.  See  Swift's  lines  To  Dr. 
Sheridan,  1718  {Poems  of  Jonathan  Sivift, 
ed.  W.  E.  Browning,  London,  1910,  2.311); 
I  give  the  first  16  lines  (of  33) : 

Whate'er  your  predecessors  taught  us, 
I  have  a  great  esteem  for  Plautus, 


NOTES  259 

And   think  your  boj's   may  gather  there- 

hence 
More  wit  and  humor  than  from  Terence; 
But  as  to  comic  Aristophanes, 
The  rogue  too  vicious  and  too  profane  is. 
I  went  in  vain  to  look  for  EupoUs 
Down  in  the  Strand,  just  where  the  New 

Pole  is; 
For  I  can  tell  you  one  thing,  that  I  can. 
You  will  not  find  it  in  the  Vatican. 
He  and  Cratinus  used,  as  Horace  says. 
To  take  his  greatest  grandees  for  asses. 
Poets,  in  those  days,  used  to  venture  high; 
But  these  are  lost  full  many  a  centur3% 
Thus  you  may  see,  dear  friend,  ex  pede  hence. 
My  judgment  of  the  old  comedians. 

128  7-8.  Cratinus,  Phrynichus,  Ameip- 
sias,  Eupolis,  and  others.  Poets  of  the 
Old  Comedy;  see  the  quotation  from  Swift  in 
the  preceding  note;  and  compare  Horace, 
Satires  1.4.1-5: 

Eupolis     atque     Cratinus     Aristophanesque 

poetae 
atque  alii,  quorum  comoedia  prisca  virorum 

est, 
siquis  erat  dignus   describi,   quod   mains   ac 

fur, 


260        THE  IDEA  OF   COMEDY 

quod  moechus  foret  aut  sicarius  aut  alioqui 
famosus,  multa  cum  libertate  notabant. 

('Eupolis,  Cratinus,  and  Aristophanes,  and 
the  other  manly  poets  of  the  Old  Comedy,  if 
any  one  deserved  to  be  drawn  as  a  rogue  and 
a  thief,  as  a  rake  or  a  cut-throat,  or  some  other 
kind  of  notable  villain,  branded  him  with 
great  freedom.')  For  the  'others'  see  Croiset, 
Histoire  de  laLitteratureGrecque  3.585  ff.,  where 
29  comic  poets  are  named,  including  the  four 
rivals  of  Aristophanes  mentioned  by  Mere- 
dith. Aristophanes  pays  his  respects  to 
Cratinus  and  Phrynichus  repeatedly  by 
name;  he  names  Eupolis  in  the  Clouds  553, 
and  Ameipsias  in  the  Frogs  14.  He  compares 
himself  with  his  rivals  to  their  disadvantage 
in  the  parabases  of  the  Knights  (507-546)  and 
the  Clouds  (518-502). 

128  10.  Donnybrook  Fair.  Donnybrook 
is  now  a  part  of  Dublin,  Ireland,  in  the  south- 
eastern section  of  the  city.  The  former  village 
of  the  name  was  famous  for  a  fair,  held  under 
license  from  King  John  in  1204,  which  gained 
a  scandalous  notoriety  for  disorder,  and  ac- 
cordingly was  discontinued  in  1855. 

128  13-14.  dragged  forth  particular 
women,    which   he   did   not.      See  Rogers' 


NOTES  261 

translation,  in  his  edition  of  the  Clouds  (551- 
560): 

But  the  others,  when  a  handle  once  Hj^er- 

bolus  did  lend. 
Trample  down  the  wretched  caitiff,  and  his 

mother,  without  end. 
In  his  Maricas  the  Drunkard,  Eupolis  the 

charge  began. 
Shamefully  my  Knights  distorting,  as  he  is 

a  shameful  man. 
Tacking   on   the   fipsy   beldame,   just    the 

ballet-dance  to  keep, 
Phrynichus's  prime  invention,  eat  by  mon- 
sters of  the  deep, 
Then  Hermippus  on  the  caitiff  opened  all 

his  little  skill. 
And  the  rest  upon  the  caitiff  are  their  wit 

exhausting  still; 
And  my  simile  to  pilfer  'of  the  Eels'  they 

all  combine. 
Whoso  laughs  at  their  productions,  let  him 

not  delight  in  mine. 

128  17.     Rabelais.     See  note  on  76  24-25. 

128  17.  Hudibras.  A  political  satire  by 
Samuel  Butler  (1G12?-1680),  directed  against 
the  anti-Royalists,  and  published  in  three 
parts  (16G3,  1G64,  1678).     It  takes  its  name 


262        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

from  its  hero.  The  idea  of  a  Presbyterian 
knight-errant  was  doubtless  adapted  from 
Don  Quixote.  The  metre  is,  if  one  may  use 
the  expression,  doggerel  of  a  high  order;  many 
of  the  couplets  take  a  lasting  hold  upon  the 
memory;  the  plot  is  slight,  and  the  characters 
are  little  more  than  puppets.  From  the  first, 
as  we  learn  in  Pepys'  Diary,  the  work  was  ex- 
traordinarily popular,  for  the  author's  wit  is 
brilliant,  playing  with  force  and  directness 
upon  the  political  and  religious  questions  of 
the  day.  See  the  edition  of  Hitdibras  by 
A.  R.  Waller  (1905). 

128  20.  the  Ant i- Jacobin.  A  periodical, 
begun  in  1797  as  a  weekly  newspaper  in- 
spired by  George  Canning  (1770-1827),  and 
edited  by  the  satirist  William  Gififord.  It 
was  designed  to  support  the  ministry  of  Pitt, 
'to  expose  the  vicious  doctrines  of  the  French 
Revolution'  as  they  were  avowed  in  England, 
'and  to  turn  into  ridicule  and  contempt  the 
advocates  of  that  event,  and  the  sticklers  for 
peace  and  parliamentary  reform';  see  Poetry 
of  the  Anti-Jacobin,  edited  by  Charles  Ed- 
monds, London,  1890.  Among  the  writers 
for  it  were  Canning  himself,  George  Ellis,  and 
John  Hookham  Frere,  later  known  as  a  trans- 
lator   of    Aristophanes.      Two    of    the    most 


NOTES  263 

famous  contributions.  The  Friend  of  Human- 
ity and  the  Knife-Grinder  and  The  Loves  of  the 
Triangles  (a  parody  of  Erasmus  Darwin's  Tfie 
Loves  of  the  Plants),  were  jointly  composed  by 
Canning  and  Frere,  and  Canning,  Frere,  and 
Ellis,  respectively. 

128  22.  Grattan.  Henry  Grattan  (1746- 
1820),  an  Irish  statesman  and  brilliant  orator, 
a  contemporary  of  Richard  Brinsley  Sheri- 
dan, and  more  successful  in  public  life  than 
Sheridan,  had  an  unusual  command  of  fierce 
invective  and  dignified  wit. 

128  25.  Wilkes.  John  Wilkes  (1727-1797), 
an  English  politician  of  dubious  fame,  at- 
tacked the  ministry  under  George  III,  and 
then  the  King  himself;  he  was  arrested,  but, 
being  a  member  of  parliament,  was  released, 
and  obtained  large  damages  at  law  for  his  ar- 
rest. His  resistance  made  him  a  popular 
hero,  and  the  proceedings  against  him  for  his 
obscene  Essay  on  Wovian  did  not  diminish 
his  popularity.  A  libel  on  the  secretary  of 
state  led  to  his  expulsion  from  parliament. 
He  was  re-elected.  When,  after  his  fourth 
election,  the  House  of  Commons  declared 
him  ineligible  to  sit,  he  was  elected  sheriff  for 
London  and  Middlesex.     In  1774  he  became 


264        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

Lord  Mayor  of  London,  and,  once  more 
elected  to  parliament,  he  was  allowed  to  sit. 
Wilkes  was  defended  by  'Junius,'  and  his 
company  was  tolerated  by  Johnson  (see 
Boswell).  It  is  unfortimate  that  so  worthless 
a  character  should  have  been  associated  in  a 
vital  way  with  the  cause  of  the  rights  of 
electors  and  the  growth  of  the  liberty  of  the 
press.  To  Meredith,  for  the  moment,  he  is  a 
dangerous  demagogue,  an  English  Cleon. 
Compare  Byron's  humorous  treatment  of 
Wilkes  in  The  Vision  of  Judgment  (1822), 
stanzas  65-73. 

128  27.  some  plumed  Lamachus.  La- 
machus,  son  of  Xenophanes,  took  part  as  an 
Athenian  general  in  the  Peloponnesian  war; 
in  the  seventeenth  year  of  the  war  (415  b.c.) 
he  was  a  colleague  of  Alcibiades  and  Nicias  in 
che  great  Sicilian  expedition.  Aristophanes 
first  mentions  him  in  the  Acharnians  270. 
Rogers,  in  commenting  on  the  line,  calls  him 
'  the  gallant  soldier  whom  in  his  lifetime  Aris- 
tophanes was  accustomed  to  satirize  as  the 
representative  of  the  war  party,  but  of  whom 
after  his  death  he  always  speaks  in  terms  of 
well-deserved  admiration.'  For  the  epithet 
'plume'  see  Acharnians  965: 

Kpadalywv  rpeXs  KuraffKiovs  'S.6<povs.  , 


NOTES  265 

(Rogers  translates:     'And  shakes  three  shad- 
owy plumes.') 

129  2.  Samuel  Foote.  An  EngHsh  comic 
playwright  and  actor  (1720-1777),  distin- 
guished for  his  powers  of  mimicry,  but  ac- 
cording to  Dr.  Johnson  (see  Boswell)  not  true 
to  life.  Johnson  discussed  him  with  Wilkes. 
Says  Percy  Fitzgerald  {Samuel  Foote,  a  Biog- 
raphy, 1910,  pp.  199-200):  'Foote  was  associ- 
ated with  two  tumultuous  beings — daring, 
reckless,  and  ever  at  war  with  their  fellows. 
It  would  be  difficult  to  find  in  the  history  of 
English  social  life  three  such  specimens  of  the 
"stormy"  life  and  brilliancy  at  the  same  mo- 
ment as  Wilkes,  Churchill,  and  Foote.  .  .  . 
They  were  always  "in  assailment" — Foote 
from  the  stage,  Churchill  from  his  desk  or 
from  the  gaol,  Wilkes  from  the  House  of  Com- 
mons. ...  All  three  in  their  respective  Unes 
were  men  of  power  and  capacity,  and  danger- 
ous to  meddle  with.' 

129  6.  bald-pate,  as  he  calls  himself. 
Compare  the  Peace  771: 

ip^pe  Tip  (paKaKpQ,  56s  tQ  (jjoKiiKpQ. 

Rogers  translates  {Peace  771-774): 

Give  this  to  the  bald-head,  give  that  to  the 
bald-head, 


266        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

Ajid  take  not  away 
That  sweetmeat,  that  cake,  but  present  and 

bestow  it 
On  the  man  with  the  brow  of  our  wonderful 

Poet! 

129  8-9.     the  laughter  of  Hercules.    See 
Aristophanes,  Frogs  42-46. 

129  10-11.  garlic  ...  to  the  game- 
cocks,   to    make   them    fight    the    better. 

See  the  Knights  494: 

I'y'  d/xeivov^  (3  rav^  iaKopoSia/M^voi  /J-dxV- 

Rogers  translates:  'Why,  if  you  are  garlic- 
primed,  you  '11  fight  much  better.'  It  is  the 
scholiast  who  explains  that  the  metaphor  is 
taken  from  cock-fighting.  The  same  notion 
is  found  in  the  Acharnians  166. 

130  1-2.  Gros  rire  .  .  .  gros  sel.  Com- 
pare Meredith's  letter  of  Nov.  14,  1902,  to 
James  Sully  on  Sully's  An  Essay  on  Laughter 
(Letters  of  George  Meredith,  ed.  by  his  son, 
1912,  2.544):  'On  the  theme  of  laughter,  you 
should  have  dealt  with  the  great  stomach 
laugh  of  the  English — on  wliich  they  found 
their  possession  of  the  sense  of  humor.  A 
chapter  would  not  have  been  too  much  for 
it.'     Would   Meredith   distinguish   'the  gros 


NOTES  267 

lire  of  the  Gaul'  from  'the  great  stomach 
laugh'  of  the  Englishman?  'Gros  seV  is  rough 
or  gross  wit,  such  as  the  obscenity  of  Rabelais. 
Compare  Sainte-Beuve,  Moliere  (1835),  in 
Portraits  Litteraircs,  1884,  2.21:  'Apres  le  sel 
mi  jpeu  gros,  viais  franc,  du  Cocu  Imagiuaire.' 

130  4-5.  like  a  monarch  with  a  troop 
of  dwarfs.  Perhaps  Meredith  has  no  par- 
ticular monarch  in  mind,  since  various  Euro- 
pean kings  had  collected  dwarfs  at  their 
courts.  The  Court  of  Philip  the  Fourth  of 
Spain  was  celebrated  for  them.  Yet  I  suggest 
Philip  the  Second  and  Ms  dwarfs  as  more 
nearly  satisfying  the  conditions  of  this  al- 
lusion, and  of  the  allusion  immediately  fol- 
lowing to  'the  pensive  monarch.'  See  E.  J. 
Wood,  Giants  and  Dwarfs  (London,  1868). 

130  4-5.  too  many  jesters  kicking  the 
dictionary  about.  This  seems  to  be  Mere- 
dith's way  of  saj-ing  that  the  English  writers 
of  comedy  of  the  day  were  too  much  given  to 
word-play.  Burnand  (see  note  on  154  12), 
doubtless  one  of  the  offenders,  wrote  Antony 
and  Cleopq.tra,  or  Ilis-tory  and  Iler-story  in  a 
Modern  Nilo-metre  (1866);  Elizabeth,  or  The 
Invisible  Armada  (1870);  and  F.  M.  Julius 
Cnaesar,  the  Irregular  Rum  'un  (1870). 


268        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

130  14-15.  in  memoirs  of  a  preceding 
age.  Meredith  reads:  'in  Memoirs  of  a 
Preceding  Age';  but  he  often  uses  capital 
letters  for  emphasis,  and  is  generally  incon- 
sistent in  such  matters.  I  have  been  unable 
to  identify  any  work  with  the  title  Memoirs 
of  a  Preceding  Age,  and  at  present  have  no 
reason  to  beUeve  in  the  existence  of  such  a 
work;  accordingly  the  capitals  have  been  re- 
duced to  lower  case.    See  next  note. 

130  15-16.  the  .  .  .  hostess  of  a  great 
house  of  reception.  As  Mr.  A.  W.  Pollard 
suggests  to  me,  this  doubtless  means  Eliza- 
beth Vassall  Fox,  Lady  Holland  (1770- 
1845),  who  presided  over  a  circle  of  literary 
men  and  Whig  politicians  at  Holland  House. 
See  Princess  Marie  Liechtenstein,  Holland 
House  (London,  1874)  1.142  ff.  Sydney 
Smith  {ibid.  1.161)  had  heard  'five  hundred 
traveled  people  assert  that  there  is  no  such 
agreeable  house  in  Europe  as  Holland  House ' ; 
and  he  shared  their  opinion.  See  also  Fyvie, 
Notable  Dames  and  Notable  Men  of  the 
Georgian  Era  (London,  1910).  Another 
possibility  is  Lady  Hester  Stanhope;  compare 
the  Menwirs  of  the  Lady  Hester  Stanhope,  as 
related  by  herself  in  conversations  rvith  her 
physician,  3  vols.,  London,   1845,   published 


NOTES  269 

without  warrant  and  anonymously  by  Dr. 
C.  L.  Meryon.  The  book  concerns  the  latter 
part  of  her  Ufe,  when  she  Hved  in  the  Orient, 
a  vulgarly  tyrannous  lady  indeed;  see  the 
edition  of  1846— for  example:  1.104,  190,  247, 
249,  255,  262,  267,  274.  Kinglake  calls  her 
'Chatham's  fiery  granddaughter,'  and  says 
(Eothen,  chapter  8):  'After  the  death  of  Lady 
Chatham,  which  happened  in  1803,  she  lived 
under  the  roof  of  her  uncle,  the  second  Pitt; 
and  when  he  resumed  the  Government  in  1804, 
she  became  the  dispenser  of  much  patronage, 
and  sole  secretary  of  state  for  the  department 
of  treasury  banquets.'  Her  satirical  remarks 
upon  individuals  clung  to  them.  This  earlier 
period  of  her  career  corresponds  very  well  with 
the  description  in  Meredith. 

132  4-5.  splinters.  In  the  sense  of 
surgical  splints,  as  here,  the  word  is  regarded 
by  the  New  English  Dictionary  as  obsolete  or 
dialectal. 

132   19.     Fielding.     See  note  on  94  24. 

132  20.  Goldsmith.  See  note  on  94  22- 
23. 

132  20-21.  Miss  Austen  .  .  .  Emma  and 
Mr.  Elton.  Jane  Austen  (1775-1817)  pub- 
lished her  novel  Emma  anonymously  in  1816. 


270        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

Of  the  author.  Sir  Walter  Scott  said  (Diary, 
March  14,  1826;  see  Lockhart's  Life):  'That 
young  lady  had  a  talent  for  describing  the 
involvements,  and  feelings,  and  characters  of 
ordinary  life  which  is  to  me  the  most  wonder- 
ful I  ever  met  with.' 

132  23.  Gait's  neglected  novels.  See, 
for  example,  The  Annals  of  the  Parish  (1821) 
by  John  Gait  (1779-1839).  Gait  was  most 
successful  in  dealing  with  aspects  of  Scottish 
rural  life. 

132  25.  In  our  poetic  literature  the 
comic  is  delicate.  Is  the  reference  again 
to  the  pastoral  drama?    See  note  on  86  16. 

133  3.  larmoyant.  'Tearful.'  Compare 
one  of  the  quotations  in  the  New  English 
Dictionary,  s.v.:  '1897  Naturalist  270.  An- 
other strange  face,  though  not  so  larmoyant, 
provocative  of  laughter  unto  tears.' 

133  22.  Dorine.  See  Moliere,  Le  Tar- 
tuff  e  2.4. 

134  1.  a  satiric  rod.  Compare  Ben 
Jonson,  Every  Man  out  of  his  Humor,  In- 
duction : 

My  soul 
Was  never  ground  into  such  oily  colors. 
To  flatter  vice,  and  daub  iniquity; 


NOTES  271 

But,  with  an  armed  and  resolved  hand, 
I  '11  strip  the  ragged  follies  of  the  time 
Naked  as  at  their  birth  .  .  . 

.  .  .  and  with  a  whip  of  steel 
Print  wounding  lashes  in  their  iron  ribs. 
I  fear  no  mood  stamped  in  a  private  brow. 
When  I  am  pleased  t'  unmask  a  public  vice. 

134  22.      Fielding's  Jonathan  Wild.   See 

notes  on  94  24  and  135  7-8. 

135  3.  villains'  ratiocination.  'The 
exclamation  of  Lady  Booby,  when  Joseph 
defends  himself — "Your  virtue!  ...  I  shall 
never  survive  it!"  etc. — is  another  case. — 
Joseph  Andrews.  Also  that  of  Miss  Matthews 
in  her  narrative  to  Booth:  "But  such  are  the 
friendsliips  of  women," — Amelia.''  (Meredith's 
footnote.)  The  first  quotation  is  from  Field- 
ing's The  History  of  the  Adventures  of  Joseph 
Andrews  and  his  Friend  Mr.  Abraham  Adams 
[etc.]  (1742),  Book  1,  chapter  8;  the  second 
from  Fielding's  Amelia  (1752),  Book  1, 
chapter  8.  Meredith  prints  the  words  'Your 
virtue!'  in  italics;  I  follow  the  edition  of 
Fielding  by  Henley  (1902)  in  using  roman 
letters. 

135    7-8.      on     referring     to     Jonathan 
Wild,   I   do  not  find  it.     Nevertheless  the 


272        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

basis  of  the  allusion  is  there.  See  The  Life 
of  Mr.  Jonathan  Wild  the  Great  (1743),  Book 
1,  chapter  2,  seventh  paragraph  (ed.  Henley, 
1902,  p.  6);  Fielding,  however,  refers,  not  to 
Jonathan,  but  to  a  member  of  the  family  in  a 
previous  generation:  'After  the  death  of  Ed- 
ward the  family  remained  in  some  obscurity 
down  to  the  reign  of  Charles  the  First,  when 
James  Wild  distinguished  himself  on  both 
sides  the  question  in  the  civil  wars,  passing 
from  one  to  t'other,  as  Heaven  seemed  to 
declare  itself  m  favor  of  either  party.  At 
the  end  of  the  war,  James  not  being  rewarded 
according  to  his  merits,  as  is  usually  the  case 
of  such  impartial  persons,  he  associated  him- 
self with  a  brave  man  of  those  times,  whose 
name  was  Hind,  and  declared  open  war  with 
both  parties.  He  was  successful  in  several 
actions  [  =  robberies],  and  spoiled  many  of 
the  enemy;  till  at  length,  being  overpowered 
and  taken,  he  was,  contrary  to  the  law  of 
arms,  put  basely  and  cowardly  to  death  by  a 
combination  between  twelve  men  of  the  en- 
emy's party,  who,  after  some  consultation, 
unanimously  agreed  on  the  said  murder.' 
So  much  for  James  Wild.  Jonathan  Wild,  a 
notable  felon,  was  born  at  Wolverhampton, 
Staffordshire,  about  1682,  and  was  executed, 


NOTES  273 

after  a  celebrated  trial,  at  Tyburn  on  May 
24,  1725. 

135  13.  The  look  of  Fielding  upon 
Richardson.  The  publication  of  Pamela 
(1740)  by  Samuel  Richardson  (1689-1761) 
inspired  Fielding  with  the  idea  of  a  parody, 
and  led  him  to  begin  Joseph  Andrews  (see 
note  on  135  3) ;  but  as  the  characters  of  Field- 
ing, especially  that  of  Parson  Adams,  grew 
under  his  hands,  his  work  became  an  inde- 
pendent novel. 

135  16.  Parson  Adams.  Mr.  Abraham 
Adams  the  curate,  in  Fielding's  Joseph  An- 
dreivs;  a  kindly,  ingenuous  person,  of  many 
peculiarities. 

135  28.  Byron  had  splendid  powers  of 
humor.  Compare  Meredith's  estimate  as 
reported  by  Edward  Clodd  {Fortnightly  Re- 
view 92.24):  'Byron  has  humor  in  his  satires; 
the  roguish  element  in  these  is  unsurpassed. 
But  his  high  flights  are  theatrical;  he  was  a 
sham  sentimentalist.'  The  date  of  the  utter- 
ance is  late — possibly  1906. 

136  8.  'Sobald  er  reflectirt  ist  er  ein 
Kind.'  For  'reflectirt'  Meredith  reads  'phi- 
losophirt.'  The  quotation  as  it  now  appears 
in  the  text  is  found  in  Goethe's  Gesprdche,  ed. 


274        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

von  Biedermann,  3.156;  the  conversation  of 
Goethe  is  that  of  Jan.  18,  1825,  and  the  pas- 
sage in  question:  'Aber  Lord  Byron  ist  nur 
gross,  wenu  er  dichtei;  sobald  er  reflectirt  ist 
er  ein  Kind.'  ('But  Lord  B;^Ton  is  great  only 
as  a  poet;  the  moment  he  reflects  he  is  a 
child.')  The  remark  is  addressed  to  Ecker- 
mann. 

136  9-10.  Carlyle  sees  him  in  this 
comic  light.  Carlyle  frequently  adverts  to 
Byron;  for  example,  in  Past  and  Present, 
Book  3,  chapter  4  {Works,  Centenary  Edition, 
10.154):  'A  gifted  Byron  rises  in  his  wrath; 
and  feeling  too  surely  that  he  for  his  part  is 
not  "happy,"  declares  the  same  in  very  vio- 
lent language,  as  a  piece  of  news  that  may  be 
interesting.  It  evidently  has  surprised  him 
much.' 

136  14-15.  Irony  .  .  .  savage,  as  in 
Swift.  See,  for  example,  A  Modest  Proposal 
for  Preventing  the  Children  of  Poor  People  from 
Being  a  Burthen  to  their  Parents,  or  Coun- 
try, and  for  Making  them  Beneficial  to  the 
Publick,  Dublin,  1729,  in  wliich  Jonathan 
Swift  (1G67-1745)  gravely  makes  use  of 
statistics  to  show  the  advantage  that  would 
arise,  in  the  helpless  condition  of  Ireland,  if 


NOTES  275 

the  young  children  of  the  poor  were  to  be 
sold  as  food  for  the  rich.  The  author  is  not 
self-seeking  (Prose  Works,  ed.  Temple  Scott, 
7.216):  'I  have  no  children  by  wliich  I  can 
propose  to  get  a  single  penny,  the  young- 
est being  nine  years  old,  and  my  wife  past 
child-bearing.' 

136  lC-17.  sedate,  as  in  Gibbon,  with  a 
malicious.  A  good  instance  of  irony  may  be 
found  in  The  Autobiographies  of  Edward  Gib- 
bon (1737-1794),  ed.  Murray,  London,  1896, 
pp.  64  ff.,  where  the  great  historian  discusses 
the  University  of  Oxford  as  it  was  when  he 
was  a  student  there.  But  Meredith  doubtless 
thinks  of  Gibbon's  treatment  of  Christianity 
in  The  Decline  and  Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire, 
for  example,  in  chapter  15;  compare  what 
Meredith  said  (about  1903)  to  Edward  Clodd 
(Fortnightly  Review  92.28):  'I  have  been  re- 
reading Gibbon  with  increased  appreciation. 
The  subtlety  of  his  remarks  on  Christianity, 
and  the  dexterity  of  conveying  through  veiled 
implication  of  belief  his  scepticism,  is  delight- 
ful.'   See  also  Introduction,  p.  10. 

136  28-137  2.  Don  Quixote  .  .  .  the 
knight  and  squire.  For  Don  Quixote  and 
liis  squire,  Sancho  Panza,  see  The  Ingenioiis 


276        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

Gentleman  Don  Quixote  of  la  Mancha,  written 
by  Miguel  de  Cervantes  Saavedra  (1547-1616), 
tr.  Jolin  Ormsby,  ed.  Fitzmaurice-Kelly,  1901; 
or  see  the  translation  by  James  Robinson 
Smith,  revised  edition.  See  also  Miguel  de 
Cervantes  Saavedra,  a  Memoir,  by  James  Fitz- 
maurice-Kelly, Oxford,  1913  (Spanish  trans- 
lation, revised,  by  B.  Sanin  Cano,  1917). 

137  19-20.  a  living  great,  though  not 
creative,  humorist.  Meredith  means 
Thomas  Carlyle  (1795-1881).  He  was  over 
eighty-one  years  old  when  Meredith  delivered 
the  lecture,  and  had  long  since  passed  the 
period  of  his  activity  as  a  writer.  In  calling 
him  'not  creative,'  Meredith  doubtless  wishes 
to  remind  us  that  Carlyle  was  neither  novel- 
ist nor  comic  poet. 

137  20-21.     the    skull    of    Yorick.      See 

Shakespeare,  Hamlet  5.1.179-202. 

137  22-24.  primitive  man  .  .  .  under 
the   gorgeous   robes    of    ceremonial.      See 

Carlyle,  Sartor  Resartus  (1833-1834);  for  ex- 
ample, Book  1,  chapters  5,  9.  There  is  an 
excellent  edition  of  Sartor  Resartus  by  Mac 
Mechan,  Boston,  1896. 

138  8-9.      emissary    eagle     .     .     .    Jove. 

In  classical  writers  the  eagle  is  frequently  re- 


NOTES  277 

ferred  to  as  the  herald  of  Zeus.  See  lUad 
24.310,  and  Euripides,  Ion  158-160. 

138  9.  the  true  Hero.  See  Carlyle, 
On  Heroes,  Hero-Worship,  and  the  Heroic  in 
History,  Six  Lectures,  Reported,  with  Emenda- 
tions and  Additions  (1841).  Heroes  and  Hero- 
Worship  has  been  well  edited  by  Mac 
Mechan,  Boston,  1901. 

138  18.  Sterne  .  .  .  sentimental.  Lau- 
rence Sterne  (1713-1768),  author  of  The  Life 
and  Opinions  of  Tristram  Shandy  (1759-1767) 
and  A  Sentimental  Journey  through  France 
and  Italy  (1768). 

138  23.     mesure  et  gout.    ' Restraint  and 

good  taste.' 

138  24.  own  how  much  they  owe  to 
Moliere.  See,  for  example,  Sainte-Beuve, 
Moliere  (1835),  in  Portraits  LittSraires,  1884, 
2.1-63. 

139  18.      Poverty,    says    the    satirist.      I 

have  put  the  remainder  of  the  sentence  in 

quotation-marks,    since    Meredith    translates 

from  Juvenal,  Satires  3.152-153: 

nil  habet  infelix  paupertas  durius  in  se 
quam  quod  ridiculos  homines  facit. 
139  24.     Caleb   Balderstone.     The  aged 

butler,  devoted  to  the  interests  of  the  Master 


278        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

of  Ravenswood,  in  Tlie  Bride  of  Lammermoor 
(1819)  of  Sir  Walter  Scott  (1771-1832);  see, 
for  example,  chapter  7. 

139  27-28.  'poor  relatives.'  See  the  es- 
say of  Charles  Lamb  on  Poor  Relations  (Works 
of  Charles  and  Mary  Lamb,  ed.  Lucas, 
2.157-163);  and  compare  Meredith,  Tha 
Egoist,  chapter  1. 

140  7-10.  Prince  Regent  .  .  .  burst 
into  tears  at  a  sarcastic  remark  of  Beau 
Brummeirs.  No  such  anecdote  seems  to  be 
contained  in  the  Life  of  Beau  Brummell  by- 
Captain  William  Jesse  or  the  Life  of  George 
IV  by  Percy  Fitzgerald.  Can  it  be  that 
Meredith  has  transformed  the  well-known 
story  of  the  'cut'  by  the  Prince  and  the  re- 
tort by  the  beau,  after  their  estrangement? 
The  incident  is  conveniently  found  in  the 
article,  Beau  Brummell,  by  Florence  Ellicott 
ill  TemfleBar  (1872)  35.236:  'He  [the  Regent, 
subsequently  George  IV]  greeted  them  all 
with  some  words  of  friendly  recognition,  with 
the  exception  of  Brummell,  at  whom  he  stared 
as  if  he  did  not  know  who  he  was,  or  why  he 
was  there.  Stung  to  the  quick  by  this  public 
insult,  the  beau  said  in  a  loud  tone  to  Alvan- 
ley,  immediately  their  royal  guest  had  passed 


NOTES  279 

on:  "Alvanley,  who's  your  fat  friend?"  The 
Prince  heard  the  remark,  and  was  as  much 
mortified  by  it  as  even  its  author  could  have 
desired.'  George  Bryan  Brummell  (1778- 
1840)  gained  a  reputation  at  Eton  and  Oxford 
for  the  exquisiteness  of  his  dress  and  the  per- 
fection of  his  manners.  After  some  experi- 
ence in  the  army,  he  came  into  a  fortune, 
entered  society,  and  passed  for  a  model  of 
elegance.  When  he  had  lost  the  protection 
of  the  Prince  Regent,  his  gambling  debts  led 
him  to  escape  across  the  Channel.  He  died 
in  penury  at  Caen,  France. 

141  3-4.     One  excellent  test   ...   as   I 
have  said.     See  pp.  75  ff.,  118-119. 

141  11-12.       a     Spirit     overhead.       See 

86  7-8. 

142  6-7.      out   of   proportion.      See  the 

Poetics  of  Aristotle,  begmning  of  chapter  5 
(Cooper,  Aristotle  On  the  Art  of  Poetry,  p.  14) : 
'As  for  comedy,  this  ...  is  an  artistic  imi- 
tation of  men  of  an  inferior  moral  bent; 
faulty,  however,  not  in  any  or  every  way,  but 
only  in  so  far  as  their  shortcommgs  are 
ludicrous;  for  the  ludicrous  is  a  species  or 
part,  not  all,  of  the  ugly.  It  may  be  described 
as  that  kind  of  shortcoming  and  deformity 


280        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

which  does  not  strike  us  as  painful,  and 
causes  no  harm  to  others;  a  ready  example  is 
afforded  by  the  comic  mask,  which  is  lu- 
dicrous, being  ugly  and  distorted,  without 
any  suggestion  of  pain.' 

143  17-18.  Moliere  .  .  .  Ecole  des 
Femmes.  In  his  PrSface  to  L' Ecole  des 
Femmes  (1662)  Moliere  says  of  La  Critique  de 
r Ecole  des  Femmes  (1663):  'L'idSe  de  ce  dia- 
logue, ou,  si  Von  veut,  de  cette  'petite  comSdie, 
me  vint  apres  les  deux  ou  trois  premieres  repre- 
sentations de  ma  piece.'  ('The  idea  of  this 
dialogue,  or,  if  you  prefer,  of  this  little  com- 
edy, came  to  me  after  the  first  two  or  three 
performances  of  my  play.')  He  alludes  in  this 
Priface  to  his  critics. 

144  9-12.  a  mild  moon's  ray  of  it  .  .  . 
in  Comus.  Compare  lines  4-6  of  Milton's 
Comus  (1634) : 

In  regions  mild  of  calm  and  serene  air, 
Above  the  smoke  and  stir  of  this  dim  spot 
Which  men  call  earth; 

and  also  Comus  115-118: 

The  sounds  and   seas,  with  all  their  finny 

drove. 
Now  to  the  moon  in  wavering  morrice  move. 


NOTES  281 

And  on  the  tawny  sands  and  shelves 
Trip  the  pert  fairies  and  the  dapper  elves. 

144  12.     Pope.    See  note  on  77  22. 

144  12-13.  the  daylight  side  of  the 
night  half-obscuring  Cowper.  Compare 
The  Diverting  History  of  John  Gilpin  (1782)  of 
William  Cowper  (1731-1800)  with  the  same 
poet's  Lines  written  during  a  Period  of  In- 
sanity (1763);  and  see,  perhaps,  The  Castaway 
(Cowper's  Poetical  Works,  ed.  Milford,  Ox- 
ford, 1907,  p.  431),  which  begins: 

Obscurest  night  involved  the  sky, 
Th'  Atlantic  billows  roared. 
When  such  a  destined  wretch  as  I 
Washed  headlong  from  on  board. 
Of  friends,  of  hope,  of  all,  bereft. 
His  floating  home  for  ever  left. 

This  poem  was  written  in  1799. 

144  18-19.  the  spectacle  of  Bossuet 
over  the  dead  body  of  Moliere.  Moliere 
died  of  haemorrhage  on  the  night  of  February 
17,  1673,  having  left  the  stage  where  he  was 
playing  the  part  of  the  Hj'pochondriac  in  his 
comedy  of  Le  Malade  Imaginaire.  The  great 
pulpit-orator  and  Roman  Catholic  contro- 
versialist   Jacques   Benigne   Bossuet    (1627- 


282        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

1704)  was  then  in  attendance  at  the  Court  of 
Louis  XIV.  In  1693  he  published  his  Maximes 
et  Reflexions  sur  la  ComSdie,  near  the  begin- 
ning of  which  (chapter  3)  occurs  the  following 
passage:  'La  premiere  chose  que  fy  reprends, 
cest  qiiun  homme  qui  se  dit  pretre  ait  pu 
avancer  que  la  comidie,  telle  queWe  est  au- 
jourd'hui,  n'a  rien  de  contraire  aux  bonnes 
moeurs,  et  quelle  est  meme  si  epuree  a  I'heure 
qu'il  est  sur  le  theatre  frangais,  qu'il  n'y  a 
rien  que  I'oreille  la  plus  chaste  ne  pHt  en- 
tendre. //  Jaudra  done  que  nous  passions 
pour  lionnetes  les  impiStes  et  les  infamies  dont 
sont  pleines  les  comedies  de  Moliere,  ou  qu'on 
ne  veuille  pas  ranger  parmi  les  pieces  d'au- 
jourd^hui  celles  d'un  auteur  qui  a  expirS,  pour 
ainsi  dire,  a  nos  yeux,  et  qui  remplit  encore  d 
present  tous  les  theatres  des  equivoques  les  plus 
grossieres  dont  on  ait  jamais  infectS  les  oreilles 
des  Chretiens.'  ('The  first  thing  which  I  rep- 
rehend is  that  a  man  who  calls  himself  priest 
could  maintain  that  comedy,  such  as  it  is 
to-day,  contains  nothing  contrary  to  good 
morals,  and  that  it  is  so  correct  at  the  present 
hour  on  the  French  stage  as  to  offer  nothing  to 
which  the  chastest  ear  might  not  listen.  We 
must,  accordingly,  class  as  moral  the  impious 
and  infamous  matters  with  which  the  come- 


NOTES  283 

dies  of  Moliere  are  filled;  or  else  we  must  not 
count  among  the  plays  of  to-day  those  of  an 
author  who  expired,  so  to  speak,  before  our 
eyes,  and  who  still,  even  now,  fills  our  theatres 
with  the  most  obscene  jokes  that  ever  cor- 
rupted the  ears  of  Christians.') 

144  22.  We  have  had  comic  pulpits. 
Swift  and  Sterne  might  serve  to  illustrate  the 
assertion  (compare  notes  on  128  2-3  and  138 
18);  see  also  Leigh  Hunt  on  Isaac  Barrow 
(1630-1677),  in  Wit  and  Humor  {Selections 
from  the  English  Poets  3.2-3).  But  perhaps 
the  most  suitable  instance  of  a  clergyman 
who  made  effective  use  of  wit  and  humor  in 
the  pulpit  is  Robert  South  (1634-1716);  see 
W.  H.  Hutton,  Divines  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land, 1660-1700,  in  the  Cambridge  History  of 
English  Literature  8.335-353.  Doubtless  the 
name  of  Sydney  Smith  (1771-1845)  should 
be  included  in  any  list,  however  brief. 

145  14-15.  Aristophanes  promises  his 
auditors.  See  the  Wasps  1051-1059  (tr. 
Rogers) : 

But  O  for  the  future,  my  Masters,  pray 
Show  more  regard  for  a  genuine  Bard 
Who  is  ever  inventing  amusements  new 
And  fresh  discoveries,  all  for  you. 


284       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

Make  much  of  liis  play,  and  store  it  away. 

And  into  your  wardrobes  throw  it 
With  the  citrons  sweet;  and  if  this  you  do. 
Your  clothes  will   be  fragrant,  the  whole 
year  through, 
With  the  volatile  wit  of  the  Poet. 

146  10.     the  scene   in   the   Frogs.      See 

the  Frogs  612-673.  For  this  as  for  other 
references  to  Aristophanes  consult  the  edition, 
with  a  masterly  translation,  of  B.  B.  Rogers. 
The  Frogs  has  also  been  translated  by  Hook- 
ham  Frere,  and  by  Gilbert  Murray.  Each  of 
the  three  translations  has  its  own  distinctive 
merits. 

146  18-19.  or  horsemen  sighted.  Mere- 
dith reads  'horseman';  but  the  Greek  is 
(Frogs  653):  "nnrias  6pQ' — 'I  see  horsemen.' 

146  23.  the  supper  in  the  manner  of 
the  ancients.'     Meredith  prints  thus: 

the  Supper  in  the  Manner  of  the  Ancients  ; 

but  Smollett  wrote: 

an  Entertainment  in  the  Manner  of  the 
Ancients  . 

See  chapter  44  of  The  Adventures  of 
Peregrine    Pickle    (1751)    by   Tobias   George 


NOTES  285 

Smollett  (1721-1771);  the  chapter-heading, 
or  argument,  reads  (Smollett,  Works,  ed. 
Henley,  1899,  Peregrine  Pickle  1.281):  'The 
Doctor  prepares  an  Entertainment  in  the 
Manner  of  the  Ancients,  which  is  attended 
with  divers  ridiculous  Circumstances.'  The 
humor  arises  from  the  variety  and  objection- 
able and  surprising  nature  of  the  viands,  and 
the  effect  upon  the  banqueters. 

147  7.  the  Book.  See  Introduction, 
pp.  34  ff. 

148  9.  weighed  themselves  in  the  .  .  . 
balance.  A  Biblical  figure;  see  Da.  5.27: 
'TEKEL.  Thou  art  weighed  in  the  balances, 
and  art  found  wanting.' 

149  2.  whirli-go-round.  Compare 
whirligig  and  merry-go-round.  Meredith,  who 
prints  'whirligoround,'  had  already  used  the 
word  in  Rhoda  Fleming  (1865),  chapter  43: 
'And  he  was  a  faithful  servant,  till  one  day  he 
got  up  on  a  regular  whirly-go-round,  and  ever 
since  .  .  .  such  a  little  boy!'  See  also  Harry 
Richmond  (1871)  3.56:  'like  one  who  has  been 
gazing  on  the  whirligoround.'  Wright,  Eng- 
lish Dialect  Dictionary  (s.  v.  'WTiirly')  records 
the  word  from  Gloucester,  Dorset,  and  Devon- 
shire. 


286        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

149  22-23.  the  land  of  culture.  Com- 
pare the  statement  of  Meredith  (Edward 
Clodd,  George  Meredith:  Some  Recollections,  in 
the  Fortnightly  Review  92.21):  *I  learned  very 
little  at  school,  until  I  was  sent  to  Neuwied, 
the  learning  of  German  proving  a  good  thing 
when  my  friend  Hardman,  of  the  Morning 
Post,  sent  me  as  correspondent  in  1866  on 
the  outbreak  of  war  between  Austria  and 
Italy.' 

150  6.  caballeros.  Spanish  gentlemen. 
See  Latin  caballarius  (horseman),  French 
chevalier  (knight),  English  cavalier. 

150  26.  Heinrich  Heine.  See  note  on 
115  13-17. 

151  8.  La  Bruyere.  Jean  de  la  Bru- 
yere  (1645-1696),  author  of  the  Caracteres 
(1688);  see  the  edition  of  his  works  (1865- 
1878)  by  G.  Servois  in  the  collection  of  Les 
Grands  tlcrivains  de  la  France;  and  see  note 
on  110  25-26. 

151  8-9.  La  Fontaine.  Jean  de  La 
Fontaine  (1621-1695);  see  the  edition  of  his 
works  (1883-1892)  by  H.  Regnier  in  Les 
Grands  Ecrivains. 

151  10.  a  Trissotin.  The  name  of  a 
'bel    esprit' — a    poetaster    and    coxcomb — in 


NOTES  287 

Moliere's  comedy  of  Les  Femmes  Savantes 
(1672);  the  name  is  compounded  of  tri 
('thrice')  and  sot  ('fool'  or  'blockhead') — 
that  is  to  say,  'Thrice-fool,'  or  'Fool  Cubed.' 

151  10.  a  Vadius.  The  name  of  a 
'savant'  in  the  same  comedy;  he  is  a  grave 
and  heavy  pedant. 

151  18.  Orson.  One  of  the  twin-brothers 
in  the  story  of  Valentine  and  Orson;  he  was 
suckled  by  a  bear,  and  had  the  uncouth  man- 
ners of  the  forest,  whereas  Valentine  was 
reared  by  their  uncle.  King  Pepin,  and  grew 
to  be  a  courtier.  The  more  primitive  version 
of  the  tale  is  called  Valentine  and  the  Nameless 
One.  The  later  version,  appearing  as  a 
French  romance  of  the  Charlemagne  cycle, 
was  composed  in  the  time  of  Charles  VIII; 
it  was  first  printed  in  1489  at  Lyons.  For 
the  widespread  popularity  of  the  story,  and 
for  an  account  of  its  various  subsequent 
adaptations,  see  Wilhelm  Seelmann,  Valen- 
tin und  Namelos,  in  Niederdeutsche  Denk- 
mdler.  Vol.  4  (1884). 

151  23.  Titan.  H\T)erion?  The  revolt 
of  the  Titans  against  their  father  Uranos  is 
first  recounted  in  the  Theogony  of  Hesiod 
(see  Mair's  translation,  or  the  translation  in 


288       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

the  edition  of  Sandys).  They  succeeded  in 
setting  up  their  youngest  brother  Kronos  as 
their  ruler;  but  a  new  struggle  ensued,  be- 
tween Kronos  and  his  son  Zeus,  in  which  the 
Titans  took  different  sides.  Those  supporting 
Kronos  represent  the  wild,  disorderly  forces  of 
nature,  finally  defeated  by  the  Olympian  dei- 
ties under  Zeus,  who  stand  for  law  and  order. 
152  2-3.  VAnxi  Fritz.  A  comedy  by 
Erckmann-Chatrian  (Emile  Erckmann  and 
Alexandre  Chatrian),  first  produced  on  De- 
cember 4,  1876,  at  the  theatre  of  the  Comedie 
Frangaise,  Paris  (Meredith  being  then  en- 
gaged in  composing  his  Essay).  It  is  based 
upon  their  novel  of  the  same  name  (1864), 
which  represents  Alsatian  life  before  the  war 
of  1870.  The  hero,  Fritz  Kobus,  a  kindly, 
well-to-do  sybarite  of  thirty-six,  much  sought 
after  by  mothers  and  daughters,  eventually 
marries  little  Suzel,  the  young  daughter  of  his 
farm-manager.  The  comedy  in  no  way  rec- 
ognizes the  recent  loss  of  Alsace  by  France 
to  Germany.  It  was  promptly  attacked  by 
the  conservative  element  of  the  French  press 
for  an  alleged  lack  of  patriotism  in  the  au- 
thors, but  was  received  by  the  public  with 
unanimous  applause,  and  has  continued  to 
hold  the  stage. 


NOTES  289 

152  10.     our  leaders  in  scholarship.     In 

1906  Meredith  writes  to  H.  R.  D.  Anders: 
*I  remember  reading  in  my  youth  Otto 
Jahn's  memoir  of  the  great  philologer  Her- 
mann and  his  indefatigable  devotion  to  work, 
with  a  sigh  of  regret  that  he,  who  had  his 
rivals  at  home,  had  so  few,  if  any,  among  us.' 
See  Introduction,  p.  14. 

152  18.  Goethe.  See  p.  115  and  note  on 
115  21-22. 

153  8.  The  Muse  of  most  of  them 
is  an  Aaenturiere.  Meredith  regards  as 
typical  of  French  comedy  in  the  middle  of  the 
nineteenth  century,  not  Alexandre  Dumas 
the  younger  (1824-1895),  who,  while  con- 
tending for  the  sanctity  of  marriage,  has  a 
special  interest  in  persons  like  himself,  not 
bom  in  wedlock,  and  in  the  moral  regenera- 
tion of  the  fallen  when  they  experience  true 
love;  but  rather  Emile  Augier  (1820-1889), 
author  of  L' Aventuriere  (1848)  andLe  Mariage 
d'Olympe  (1855).  Of  Augier,  Ferdinand 
Brunetiere  says  (I  translate  from  his  Manuel 
de  VHistoire  de  la  Litterature  Frangaise,  1899, 
p.  492  n.):  'His  originality  really  lies  in  the 
force,  somewhat  brutal,  which  he  has  put  at 
the  service  of  certain  ideas  that  are  commonly 


290        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

defended  with  some  measure  of  timidity  or 
hesitation,  for  the  reason  that  they  are  not 
less  commonplace  than  just.  Thus  he  has 
firmly  established  the  proposition  that  a  good 
name  is  better  than  riches,  and  that  love 
does  not  restore  the  innocence  of  courtesans.' 
Compare  Gustave  Lanson  (I  translate  from 
his  Histoire  de  la  LittSrature  Frangaise,  1901, 
p.  1050):  'He  is  to  be  judged  by  his  work  in 
prose,  not  by  the  awkward  eloquence  of 
L' Aventuriere  ...  or  the  antique  graces  of 
Philiberte  (1853).  Augier  is  a  bourgeois;  and 
his  drama  gives  expression  to  the  ideas  of  a 
bourgeois  of  1850,  of  sane  mind,  right  feel- 
ings, firm  will,  and  spotless  morality.  At  the 
outset  he  rejected  romanticism;  in  Gabrielle 
(1849)  he  unmasked  the  fallacy  of  the  ro- 
mantic ideal,  the  danger  of  the  unbridled  and 
supreme  passion.  To  the  sentimentality  pro- 
ceeding from  romanticism,  to  any  rehabilita- 
tion of  courtesans  through  hypocritical  or 
ingenuous  pity,  he  gave  a  check  in  Le  Mariage 
d'Olynipe.' 

153  14.     nostalgic     de     la     boue.       See 
Augier,  Le  Mariage  d'Olympe  1.1: 

LE    MARQUIS.    Mettez   un   canard    sur   un 
lac  au   milieu  des   cygnes,    vous  verrez   qu'il 


NOTES  291 

regrettera  sa  mare,  et  finira  par  y  re- 
tourner. 

MONTRiCHARD.    La  nostalgic  de  la  boue! 

BAUDEL.  Vous  n'admettez  done  pas  de 
Madeleines  repentantes? 

LE  ALVRQUis.  Si  fait,  mais  au  desert 
seulement. 

('the  ikLVKQxns.  Put  a  duck  on  a  lake  in 
the  midst  of  swans,  and  you  will  see  he  will 
regret  the  loss  of  his  puddle,  and  will  end  by 
returning  thither. 

'  MONTRICHARD.    Homesickness  for  the  mire! 

*  BAUDEL.  Then  you  do  not  admit  the  ex- 
istence of  repentant  Magdalens? 

'the  marquis.  Yes  indeed,  but  only  in 
the  wilderaess.') 

154  G-7.  the  aventurieres  have  a  case 
to  plead  against  him.  In  Rhoda  Fleming 
(18G5)  Meredith  had  represented  Dahlia 
Fleming  as  the  victim  of  an  astute  young  man 
of  the  world;  in  spite  of  her  fall  she  preserves 
her  purity  of  heart.  The  novel  gave  offense 
to  the  ultra-Puritanical  in  England. 

154  12.  circle  of  a  spy-glass.  In  1877 
these  words  were  followed  by  a  passage  (see 
Variant  Readings,  p.  167)  on  several  of  Mere- 
dith's   contemporaries    wlio    wrote    for    the 


292       THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

comic  stage,  including  Robertson,  Taylor, 
Gilbert,  and  Burnand.  Thomas  William 
Robertson  (1829-1871),  less  successful  as  an 
actor  than  as  a  dramatist,  early  retired  from 
the  stage,  and  wrote  a  number  of  plays  that 
were  very  popular;  for  example,  David  Gar- 
rick  (1864),  Society  (1865),  and  Ca^te  (1867). 
Tom  Taylor  (1817-1880),  after  distinguish- 
ing himself  as  a  student  at  Glasgow  and  Cam- 
bridge, was  professor  of  the  English  language 
and  literature  in  the  London  University, 
became  a  barrister  in  1845,  and  about  1846 
took  up  the  career  of  dramatist,  writing  or 
adapting  upwards  of  one  hundred  pieces  for 
the  stage;  among  these  were  Still  Waters  Run 
Deep  (1855)  and  Our  American  Cousin  (1858). 
From  1874  to  1880  he  was  editor  of  Punch. 
Sir  William  Schwenck  Gilbert  (1836-1911)— 
knighted  in  1907 — author  of  the  Bab  Ballads, 
collaborated  with  Sir  Arthur  Sullivan  in  a 
long  series  of  comic  operas,  several  of  which 
attained  a  high  degree  of  popularity  in  Amer- 
ica; for  example,  H.  M.  S.  Pinafore  (1878), 
The  Pirates  of  Penzance  (1879),  Patience 
(1881),  and  The  Mikado  (1885).  When  Mere- 
dith wrote  the  Essay,  Gilbert  was  perhaps 
best  knovv'n  for  his  fairy  comedies,  such  as 
Pygmalion  and  Galatea   (1871);   The    Happy 


NOTES  293 

Land  (1873)  was  received  with  great  en- 
thusiasm. Sir  Francis  Cowley  Burnand 
(1836-)— knighted  in  1902— founded  the 
Amateur  Dramatic  Club  at  Cambridge,  and 
later  wrote  Black-Eyed  Susan  and  other  bur- 
lesques, with  comedies  and  farces.  He  was 
editor  of  Punch  from  1880  to  1906.  See  note 
on  130  5-Q. 

154  13.  the  fly  in  amber.  Compare 
Herrick,  Hesperides,  No.  817  {Works,  ed. 
Pollard,  1898,  2.86): 

I  saw  a  fly  within  a  bead 

Of  amber  cleanly  buried; 

The  urn  was  little,  but  the  room 

More  rich  than  Cleopatra's  tomb. 

Compare  also  Martial,  Epigrams  4.32: 

Et  latet  et  lucet  Phaethontide  condita  gutta, 
ut  videatur  apis  nectare  clusa  suo. 

dignum  tantorum  pretium  tulit  ilia  laborum; 
credibile  est  ipsam  sic  voluisse  mori. 

('Preserved  in  a  bead  of  amber  [  =  'tear 
of  the  sisters  of  Phaethon'],  there  lurks  and 
gleams  a  bee,  so  that  she  seems  to  be  enclosed 
in  her  own  honey.  A  worthy  reward  she  had 
for  all  her  labors.  It  is  credible  that  she 
wished  to  die  thus.') 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

[Other  titles,  and  a  number  of  the  follow- 
ing in  a  more  expanded  form,  may  be  found 
in  the  Notes  by  means  of  the  Index  of  Proper 
Names.] 


Addison.  Works,  ed.  Hurd  and  Bohn.  6  vols. 
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■ .    Achamians,  Clouds,  Wasps,  ed.  and  tr. 

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Brant.  Narrenschijf,  ed.  Zamcke.  Leipzig, 
1854. 

297 


298        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

Brant.  Ship  of  Fools,  tr.  Barclay,  ed.  Jamie- 
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BuKNS.  The  Poetry,  ed.  Henley  and  Hender- 
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Butler.  Hudihras,  ed.  Waller.  Cam- 
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Carmina  Burana.  Ed.  Schmeller.  Bres- 
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Er.\smus.  M0PIA2  ErKfiMION:  Stultitiae 
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BIBLIOGRAPHY  299 

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300        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

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Plautus.  Comoediae,  ed.  Lindsay.  2  vols. 
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Poesies  Inedites  du  Moyen  Age.  Ed.  du 
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Pope.  Works,  ed.  El  win  and  Courthope.  10 
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BIBLIOGRAPHY  301 

Rabelais.  Oeuvres,  ed.  Jannet  and  Moland. 
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Oxford,  1911. 
Sheridan.      Dramatic    Works,    ed.    Knight. 

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302        THE  IDEA  OF  COMEDY 

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Bain,   Alexander.      The  Emotions  and  the 

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Mackail,  John  William.  The  Divine  Com- 
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McMahon,  a.  Philip.  On  the  Second  Book 
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INDEX 


INDEX   OF  TITLES  AND 
PROPER  NAMES 


[The  Index  contains  no  references  to  names  and 
titles  as  included  in  the  Analysis  of  the  Essay 
(pp.  45-71)  or  the  Bibliography  (pp.  297-307). 
References  to  Meredith,  to  the  Essay  on  Comedy, 
and  to  the  Comic  Spirit,  are  not  recorded.] 


Abigail  84,  193 

Abstract  of  a  Comparison  be- 
twixt Aristophanes  and 
Menander  (of  Plutarch?) 
227  . 

Acaste  217 

Achamians  of  Aristophanes 
18-t,  251,  252,  253,  255,  204, 
266 

Achilles  21,  78,  180 

Adams,  Parson  135,  273 

Addison  181 

Adelphi  of  Terence  108,  109, 
111,  223,  229,  230,  236 

'A5eA<|)ol  B'  of  Menander  223 

Admetus  250 

Adriatic  22 

Aeacus  146 

Aegospotami  255 

Aelian  187 

Aeschylus  176,  251 

Agamemnon  of  Aeschylus  176 

Ages  of  Man,  The,  of  Har- 
cum  196 

Agnes  93,  184,  208 

Aimwell  81,  188 

Alcaeus  257 

Alceste  85,  86,  90,  92,  103. 
104,111,  135,  197,217,218, 
235 


Alcestis  of  Euripides  235,  250 
Alcibiades  264 
Alexander  Aetolus  177 
Alexandria  224 
Aljieri  and  Salomon  the  Floren- 
tine Jew  of  Landor  213 
Alsace  152,  288 
Alvanley  278,  279 
Ameipsias  128,  227,  259,  260 
Amelia  of  Fielding  271 
American     Cousin,     Our,    of 

Taylor  292 
Ami  Fritz,  L',  of  Erckmann- 

Chatrian  152,  288 
Amphitrite  38 
Amphitruo  of  Plautus  203 
Amyot  191 

Anabasis  of  Xenophon  256 
Anaxagoras  177 
Anders  14,  289 
'AvSpCa  of  Menander  223 
Andria  of  Terence  108,  110, 

220,  222,  230,  231,  236 
Annals  of  the  Parish  of  Gait 

270 
Anli- Jacobin  128,  262 
Antony  and  Cleopatra  of  Bur- 

nand  267 
Antony     and     Cleopatra     of 

Shakespeare  191 


312 


INDEX 


'Affio-Tos  of  Menander  232 

Apollo  9 

Apollodorus  Carystius  108, 
223 

ApoUodonis  (of  Athena,  fl. 
144  B.  C.)  225 

Arabian  Nights  4,  14,  15,  31, 
116,  247 

Arabs  117 

Araminta  of  Snaith  216 

Arcadia  233 

Ariel  39 

Ariosto  238,  239 

Aristophanes  16,  17,  19,  29, 
32,  78,  109,  121,  123,  124, 
125,  126,  127,  128.  129, 
145,  146,  147,  174,  177, 
181,  183,  184,  195,  203, 
220,  227,  228,  235,  238, 
250,  251,  252,  253,  254, 
255,  256,  259,  260,  262, 
264,  266,  283 

Aristophanes  and  the  Political 
Parties  at  A  thens  of  Maurice 
Croiset  184,  251,  258 

Aristophanes  of  Byzantium 
212 

Aristotle   19,   179,    181,   200, 

213,  279 

Aristotle  On  the  Art  of  Poetry 
of   Cooper    179,    181,   213, 

214,  279 
Arnold,  Edwin  6 
Arnold,  Matthew  20 
Arnolphe  111,  208 

Ars  Poeliea  of  Horace  196 
Arthur,  King  75,  172 
Artificial  Comedy  of  the  Last 

Century,  On  the,  of  Lamb 

190 
As  You  Like  It  of  Shakespeare 

196,  200,  201,  202 
Athenaeus  108,  220,  223,  224, 

225 
Athene  21,  78,  180,  187 
Athens  88,  108,  125,  126,  127, 

174,  251,  254,  255,  256 
Atta  Troll  116,242,243 


Atta  Troll  of  Heine  242 
Attic  Theatre,   The,  of  Haigh 

183,  254 
Augier  16,  21,  289,  290 
Aulularia  of  Plautus  211 
Aulus  Gellius  177,  224 
Austen  132,  269 
Austria  246,  286 
Autobiographies     of    Edward 

Gibbon,  ed.  Murray  275 
Avare,  L\  of  Moliere  211,  219 
Aventuriere,  L',  of  Augier  153, 

166,  289,  290 

Bab  Ballads  of  Gilbert  292 
Babylonians  of  Aristophanes 

251,  253 
Bacchus   {see  also  Dionysus) 

38,  146.  253 
Bagdad  31,  118,  248 
Balderstone,  Caleb  139,  277 
Balzac  211 
Barbarossa  115,  245 
Barbarossa  of  RUckert  247 
Bar  bier    de    Seville,  Le,   of 

Beaumarchais  236 
Barbiere    de    Seviglia,    11,    of 

Rossini  237 
Baron      d'Albikrae,     Le,     of 

Thomas  Corneille  219 
Barrow  283 
Basques  243 
Baudel  291 
Baxter  227 
Beata  245 

Beatrice  88.  193,  202 
Beauchamp's  Career  of  Mere- 
dith 22 
Beaumarchais  236 
Beaumont  193,  200 
Beaux'     Stratagem,     The,     of 

Farquhar  188 
Belise  112,  211,  237 
Beljarae  182 
Beloe  177,  224,  225 
Benecke  27  n. 
Benedick  88,  177,  202 
Benott  220 


INDEX 


313 


Bensly  178 

Berchtesgadea  246 

Berlin  152 

Bernard,  St.  13 

Bernard,   St.,   Life    of,   of    J. 

Cotter  Morison  8 
Bibbiena  239 
Bible  14,  22,  285 
Biedermann,  von  274 
Billing  214 
Billingsgate  214 
Birds  of  Aristophanes  109,  227 
Black  6 
Black-Eyed    Susan    of    Bur- 

nand  293 
Blumen-,    Fruchi-,    und   Dor- 

nenstiicke     of     Jean     Paul 

Richter  244 
Bobadill  87,  201 
Boccaccio    14,     16,    31,     113, 

238 
Boileau  178,  195 
Boislisle  199 
Bond  200,  238,  239 
Booby,  Lady  271 
Bossuet  144,  281 
Boswell  188,  189,  264,  265 
Bountiful,  Lady  188 
Bourni    Bienfaisani,    Le,    of 

Goldoni  240 
Boy  and  the  Mantle,  The  172 
Brandreth  26 
Bride  of  Lammermoor,  The,  of 

Scott  278 
British  Museum  27  n. 
Brothers,  The,  of  Terence  {see 

also  Adelphi)  230 
Browning,  W.  E.  258 
Brummcll  140,  278,  279 
Brummell,   Beau,   Life  of,   of 

Jesse  278 
Brummell,  Beau,  of   Florence 

Eliicott  278 
Brunetiere  199,  289 
Brunschwicg  186 
Bryce  246,  247 
Burlador  de  Sevilla  of  Tirso 

de  Molina  242 


Burnand   33,   167,   188,   267, 

293 
Butler,    Samuel,     author     of 

Erewhon  6 
Butler,     Samuel,     author    of 

Hudihras  261 
Byron  16,  32,  135,  242,  264, 

273,  274 
Byzantium  111,  233 

Caen  279 
Caesar  225,  226 
Caleb  Balderstone  277 
Cambridge    History    of    Eng- 
lish   Literature    8  n.,     178, 

182,200,  201,  283 
Canning  262,  263 
Cano,  Sanin  276 
Capetown  3 

Caracteres  of  La  Bruyere  286 
Carlyle  16,  22,  23,  136,  237, 

244,  274,  276,  277 
Carlyle,  Works  of  274 
Carrel  196 
Caryll  178 

Cassaria,  La,  of  Ariosto  238 
Castaway,  The,  of  Cowper  281 
Caste  of  Robertson  292 
Castelain  202 
Catalogue    of   the    lAbrary    of 

the  London  Institution  172 
Cato  175,  176 
Causeries  du  Lundi  of  Sainte- 

Beuve  194,  197 
Celimene   90,    92,    102,    103, 

104,  105,  107,  112,  135,213, 

216,  217,  218 
'Centenarian,  The'  123,  250 
Ceres,  Homeric  Hymn  to  176 
Cervantes  121,  147,  276 
Cervantes,  Life  of,  by  James 

Fitzmaurice-Kelly  6,  276 
Chaerea  190 
Chambers  193 

Chances,  The,  of  Fletcher  200 
Chapman  and  Hall  5,  6,  7,  8 
Characters    of    Theophrastus 

232 


314 


INDEX 


Charles  I  of  England  272 
Charles  II  of  England  28,  29, 

78,  181 
Charles  VIII  of  France  287 
Charnock  4,  5 
Chastillon,  see  Odet 
Chatfield-Taylor  240 
Chatham  269 
Chatham,  Lady  269 
Chatrian  16,  288 
Chaucer  14,  16,  33,  144 
Child  172 
Choisy  199 
Chremes  223 
Chronica   of    Apollodorus    of 

Athens  225 
Chrysale96,  211 
'Chrysidis'  162 
Chrysis  107,  162,  220 
Churchill  265 
Cibber  189 
Cilicia  246 
Clarke  172 

Classical  Weekly  196,  230 
Cleon  251,  253,  254,  257,  258, 

264 
Cleon  213 

Cleopatra  83,  191,  293 
Clinia  223 
Clodd  4  n.,  8,  20,  273,  275, 

286 
Clotilda  245 
Clouds  of  Aristophanes   109, 

227,  238,  253,  254,  260,  261 
Clumsey,  Sir  Tunbelly  80 
Cockeram  176 
Cocu     Imaginaire,      Le,     of 

Moliere  267 
Coleridge  12,  212 
Cologne  4 
Columbus  137 
Comaslae  of  Ameipsias  227 
Comedie  Fran^aise  288 
Comedy    of    Errors,     The,    of 

Shakespeare  202 
Comicorum    Atticorum    Frag- 

menta,  ed.  Kock  222,  231, 

232,  235 


Commorientes  of  Plautus  229, 

230 
Compte  10,  182 
Comits  of  Milton  33,  144,  280 
Conde  89,  204,  205,  206 
Congreve  16,  23,  30,  85,  92, 

96,97,98,99,  100,  190,  191, 

192,  210,  212,  213,  215,  233 
Connos  of  Ameipsias  227 
Constant     Couple,      The,     of 

Farquhar  191 
Constantine  234 
Conti  198,  199 
Conway  8 
Cooper    179,    181,    213,    234, 

279 
Corneille,  Pierre  114,  240 
Corneille,   Pierre,   Oeuvres   of 

241 
Corneille,  Thomas  219 
Cornford  179 
Cosnac  199 
Country  Wife,  The,  of  Wych- 

erley  79,  184,  191 
Courtwell  189 
Covent  Garden  209 
Cowper  144,  281 
Cowper,  Poetical  Works  of  281 
Cradock  173 
Cranmer  185 
Crassus  175,  176 
Cratinus  128,  259,  260 
Critique  de  VEcole  des  Femmes, 

La.  of  Moliere  143,  174,  280 
Croiset,  Alfred  184,  224,  229, 

254,  260 
Croiset,  Maurice  184, 222, 224, 

251,  254,  258,  260 
Cyrus  127,  256 

Dahlia  Fleming  291 

Dakyns  256 

D'Alembert  103,  216 

Damis  213 

Dante  14 

Aao9  of  Legrand  236 

Darius  255 

Darwin,  Erasmus  263 


INDEX 


315 


Datis  255 

Darid   Garrick   of   Robertson 

Davu3  111,  236 

Decameron  of  Boccaccio  238 

Decline  and  Fall  of  Gibbon 
275 

Deipnosopkists  of  Athenaeus 
224 

^eicriSaiiJLujv  of  Menander  232 

Demea  111 

Demus  127,  256 

Dennis  190 

De  Poetis,  Suetonius  226,  233 

Diana  of  the  Crossways  of 
Meredith  237 

Diary  of  Pepys  262 

Dicaeopolis  252 

Dictionary  of  National  Biog- 
raphy 8,  27  n. 

Dictionnaire  de  la  Langue 
Frangaise  of  Littre  182,  236 

Dionysus  {see  also  Bacchus) 
78,  179,  180,  181,  235 

Diopeithes  225 

Diphilus  229,  230 

Dissertations  and  Discussions 
of  J.  S.  Mill  196 

Dioines  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land of  Hutton  283 

Dobson  209 

Dogberry  88,  202 

Donatus  233 

Don  Juan  115,  241 

Don  Juan  of  Byron  242 

Don  Juan  of  Moliere  242 

Donnybrook  260 

Donnybrook  Fair  128,  260 

Don  Pedro  177 

Don  Quixote  1.36,  262,  275 

Don  Quixote  of  Cervantes  146, 
276 

Dorante  174 

Dorians  179 

Dorinda  188 

Dorine  92,  133,  270 

Double-Dealer,  The,  of  Con- 
greve  97,  191,  212 


Dover  35 

Dramatic  Works  of  Wycherley, 
Congreve,  Vanhrugh,  and 
Farquhar,  ed.  Hunt  190 

Dryden  189,  192 

Dublin  260 

Diibner  227 

Duchess  of  Devonshire  216 

DufI  211,  231,  233 

Dulness  80.  125,  187,  251 

Dumas  Fits  289 

Dunciad  of  Pope  187 

D'Urfey  181 

AOo-KoAos  of  Menander  232 

Earle  233 

Early  Plays  from  the  Italian 

of  Bond  200,  238.  239 
'EavTov  Tiei'dujy  of  Menander 

231 
'EavTo;'       Ti^wpoti^iero?       of 

Menander  110,  223,  232 
Ecclesiazrtsae  of  Aristophanes 

184,  254 
Eckermann  274 
Ecole    des     Femmes,     L\    of 

Moliere  93,  111,   143,  184, 

208,  280 
Ecole     des     Maris,      U,     of 

Moliere  111 
Education    of   An    Orator    of 

Quintilian  203,  225 
Egoist,    The,   of   Meredith   6, 

7,  12,  25,  34,  34  n.,  209 
Egoist,    The,    Prelude    to,    of 

Meredith  7,  34,  34  n. 
Egypt  224 

Exvpa  of  Apollodorus  223 
Elia,  see  Lamb 

Elizabeth,  or  The  Invisible  Ar- 
mada of  Burnand  267 
Ellis  262,  263 
p:ister  242 
Elton,  Mr.  132,  269 
Emma  1,32,  269 
Emma  of  Jane  Austen  269 
Encyclopaedia  Britannica  193, 

209 


316 


INDEX 


England  4,  16,  91,  130,  174 

English,  The  132 

English  and  Scottish  Ballads  of 

Child  172 
English   Comic   Writers,   Lec- 
tures on  the,  of  Hazlitt  19-2 
English  Dialect  Dictionary  of 

Wright  285 
English    Dictionarie,    The,   of 

Henry  Cockeram  176 
English  Drama  of  the  Restora- 
tion of  Nettleton   182,  185, 

192 
English    Literature    and    the 

Classics,  ed.  Gordon  232 
Eothen  of  Kinglake  269 
Epicurus  107,  163,  221 
'ETTiSiKafo/j.ei'os      of    ApoUo- 

dorus  223 
Epigrams  of  Martial  293 
Epitome  of  Phrynichus  219 
'ETTiTpeTTOi'Tes    of    Menander 

222 
Erckmann  16,  288 
Essai  Historique  et  TAtteraire 

sur  la  ComSdie  de  Menandre 

of  Benott  220 
Essay  on  Laughter  of  Sully  266 
Essay  on  Woman  of  Wilkes 

263 
Euclio211 

'Ei/i'oiJxos  of  Menander  223 
£i(«i/c/!M«  of  Terence  107, 108, 

110,  162,  190,  223,  235 
Eupolis  128,  259,  260,  261 
Euripides  88,   177,  203,  235, 

251,  253,  277 
Evan  Harrington  of  Meredith 

3,6 
Evans,  Sir  Hugh  88,  202 
Every  Man  in  his  Humor  of 

Ben  Jonson  201 
Every  Man  out  of  his  Humor 

of  Ben  Jonson  270 
Ewald  210,  212,  213 

Fabhs  of  Phaedrus  188 
Fainall,  Mrs.  102,  215 


Faithful  Shepherdess,  The,  of 

Fletcher  200 
Falstaff  87,  202,  235 
Faraday  171 
Farquhar  188,  190,  191 
Fashion  186 
Faust  of  Goethe  245 
Favre  250 
Femmes     Savantes,     Les,     of 

Moliere  31,  89,90,  112,  206, 

211,  212,  287 
Ferchlandt  210 
Fermor,  Miss  178 
Fielding  16,  32,  94,  121,  132, 

134,  135,  189,  209,  269,  271, 

272,  273 
Figaro  112,  236 
Fitzgerald  265,  278 
Fitzmaurice-Kelly  6,  241,  276 
Fleming,  Dahlia  291 
Fletcher  86,  193,  200 
Fluellen  88,  202 
F.  M.  Julius  Cnaesar  of  Bur- 

nand  267 
Foible  215 
Fondlewife  84,  191 
Foote  129,  265 
Foresight  191 
Foresight,  Mrs.  212 
Forster  7,  213 
Fortnightly  Review  4  n.,  5  n., 

6,  6  n.,  10  n.,  20  n.,  273, 

275,  286 
Fourbcries  de  Scapin,  Les,  of 

Moliere  236 
Fox,  Elizabeth  Vassal!,  Lady 

Holland  268 
Frail,  Mrs.  98,  212 
France  12,  16,  88,  95,  152,  283 
Frate  Timoteo  114,  164,  239 
Frederick     I     of     the     Holy 

Roman  Empire  245,  247 
Frederick    H    of    the    Holy 

Roman  Empire  246 
French,  The  138 
French    Revolution,     The,    of 

Carlyle  237 
Frere  256,  262,  263,  284 


INDEX 


317 


Friend  of  Humanity,  The,  of 
Canning  and  Frere  263 

Fritz  Kobus  288 

Frogs  of  Aristophanes  146, 
181,227,251,253,260,266, 
284 

Fyvie  268 

Gabriel  de  Roquette  of  Pignot 
199 

Gabrielle  of  Augier  290 

Gainsborough  102,  216 

Gait  132,  270 

Cassendi  221 

Gellius  177,  224,  225 

Gendarme  de  Bevotte  242 

Geneva  216 

George  III  of  England  263 

George  IV,  Life  of,  of  Fitz- 
gerald 278 

George  IV  of  England  278 

George  Meredith  as  Publisher's 
Reader  of  Matz  6  n.,  8  n. 

George  Meredith  of  Pholiades 
26  n. 

George  Meredith's  Literary  Re- 
lations with  Germany  of  Lees 
14  n. 

Germans  117,  150,  151,  152 

Germany  12,  150.  246,  288 

Geschichte  dcr  B yzardinitchen 
Litteratur  of  Krumbacher 
234 

Getas  222 

reojp-yo?  of  Menander  222 

Giants  and  Dwarfs  of  Wood 
267 

Gibbon  15,  136,  275 

Gifford  262 

Gilbert  33,  167,  292 

Gillet  210 

Girardin  17,  117,  247,  250 

Gissing  6 

(ilendower  248 

Gnatho  108 

Goethe  11,  15,  16,  21,  23, 
32,  115,  136,  152,  245,  274, 
289 


Goethe's  Gesprdche  273 

Goldoni  16,  114,  239,  240 

Goldoni,  a  Biofiraphy,  of  Chat- 
field-Taylor  240 

Goldsmith  16,  94,  132,  208, 
269 

Goodwin  224,  228 

Gordon  232 

Grandet  211 

Grattan  128,  263 

Greece  16,  108,  110,  225 

Greedy  86,  87,  200 

Greek  Genius  and  its  Influence 
of  Cooper  234 

Greeks  226,  227,  229,  255 

Grentell  222 

Grimarest  206 

Guenever  172 

Guizot  220 

Hades  38 

Hadrian  229 

Haigh  183,  254 

Hall  233 

Hamlet  of  Shakespeare  276 

Happy  Land,  The,  of  Gilbert 
293 

Harcum  196 

Hardman  286 

Hardy  6 

Harpagon  96,  111,  211,  235 

Harrison  10 

Harry  Richmond  of  Meredith 
6,  285 

Havet  186 

Hazlitt  17,  178,  192 

Heauton  Timorumenos  of  Ter- 
ence 108,  111,  223,  232,  236 

Hecyra  of  Terence  108,  223 

Heine  115,  128,  150,  242,  286 

Heine,  Life  of,  of  Stigand 
242 

Heine,  Werlce  of  242 

Henley  8,  271,  272,  285 

Heracles,  see  Hercules 

Heraclitus  175,  176 

Hercules  129,  235,  254,  266 

Hermann  14,  289 


318 


INDEX 


Hermippus  261 

Hermit,  The,  of  Phryaichus 
252 

Heroes  and  Hero-Worship  of 
Carlyle  277 

Heros  fHpw?)  of  Menander 
222 

Herrick  293 

Herrick,  Works  of  293 

Hesiod  287 

Hesperides  of  Herrick  293 

Hill  189 

Hind  272 

Hippocrates  182 

Histoire  de  la  Lilleralure 
Frangaise  of  Lanson  290 

Histoire  de  la  Litteralure 
Grecque  of  Alfred  and 
Maurice  Croiset  184,  22 1, 
229,  254,  260 

Historic  of  Error  202 

Historiettes  of  Tallemant  des 
Reaux  197 

Historische  Zeitschrift  246 

History  of  Spanish  Literature 
of  Fitzmaurice-Kelly  241 

Holait  199 

Holberg  16 

Holland  House  of  Liechten- 
stein 268 

Holland,  Lady  268 

Holy  Roman  Empire  of  Bryce 
246 

Horace  30,  85,  195,  196,  259 

Horner  184 

Hosius  177 

Hotspur  248 

Hoyden  29,  80,  84,  186,  192 

Hudibras  of  Samuel  Butler 
128,  261.  262 

Humphrey  Clinker  of  Smol- 
lett 193 

Hunt,  A.  S.  222 

Hunt,  Leigh  17,  190,  283 

Hutton  283 

Hymen  38 

Hyperbolas  261 

Hyperion  287 


Iceland  241 

Idylls  of  the  King  of  Tenny- 
son 204 

niad  21,  180,  181,  277 

Ill-tempered  Man,  The,  of 
Menander  110,  232 

Imaginary  Conversations  of 
Landor  213 

Incredulous  Man,  The,  of 
Menander  110,  332 

Influence  of  Moliere  on  Res- 
toration Comedy  of  Miles 
210 

Ion  of  Euripides  277 

Ireland  260,  274 

Italians  117 

Italy  7,  16,  216,  239,  240,  286 

Jack  the  Giant-Killer  193 

Jahn  14,  289 

Jan  net  175 

Jaques  87,  202 

Jean  Paul   (see  also  Richter) 

23,  115,  245 
Jean  Pauls  IVerke  244 
Jebb  232 
Jesse  278 
Jesuits  198,  199 
Jilted  Lover,  The,  of  Menander 

221 
John,  King  of  England  260 
John  Gilpin  of  Cowper  281 
Johnson,   Samuel   122,  188, 

249,  264,  265 
Johnson,  Samuel.  Life  of,  of 

Boswell  188,  189,  264,  265 
Jonathan  Wild  of  Fielding  135, 

166,  209,  271,  272 
Jonson,  Ben  16,  86,  87,  200, 

201,  211,  233,  270 
Jonson,  Ben,  of  Castelain  202 
Joseph  Andrews  271 
Joseph   Andrews   of   Fielding 

209,  271,  273 
Joubert  194 

Joubert,  Pensecs  of  195 
Journal  des  Debats  17,  250 
Jove  {see  also  Zeus)  138,  276 


INDEX 


319 


Joy  io  Great  Caesar  of  D'Urfey 

182 
Juan,  Don  115,  241 
Judy,  see  Punch  and  Judy 
Junius  264 
Juvenal  277 

Kay  173 

Kelly,  see  Fitzmaurice-Kelly 

King     Henry     the     Fifth     of 

Shakespeare  202 
King  Henry  the  Fourth,  Part 

1,  of  Shakespeare  202,  248 
King  Henry  the  Fourth,  Part 

2,  of  Shakespeare  202 
Kinglake  269 

Knights  of  Aristophanes  254, 

255,  256,  260,  261,  266 
Kobus,  Fritz  288 
Kock  222,  231,  232,  235 
Koeppel  201 

K6Aaf  of  Menander  223 
Kronos  288 
Krumbacher  234 
Kuschnappel  244 
Kyffhauser  247 

La  Bruyere  15,  151,  233,  286 

Lady  Bountiful  188 

La<ly  of  A  ndros.  The,  of  Ter- 
ence, see  Andria 

La  Fontaine  99,  151,  195,  286 

i: Allegro  of  Milton  189,  202 

Lamachus  128,  264 

Lamb  16,  17,  29.  190,  191,  278 

Lamb,  Works  ol  190,  191,  278 

Lander  99,  213 

Lane  247 

Lane-Poole  247 

Lang  180 

Lanson  290 

Lanuvinus,  Luscius  231 

Latimer  185 

Lavinius  231 

Leaf  180 

Lectures  on  the  English  Comic 
Writers  of  Hazlitt  192 


I>ees  14  n. 

Lefebvre  222 

Legende  de  Don  Juan,  La,  of 

Gendarme  de  Bevotte  242 
Legrand  200,  203,  219,  220, 

222,  224,  230,  236 
Lenette  115,  244,  245 
Lessing  16,  115,  243 
Letters  of  George    Meredith 

14n.,  15n.,26n.,  27n.,  188, 

204,  266 
Lexique     de    la     Langue     de 

Moliere  of  Livet  219 
Liechtenstein  268 
Life    and    Times    of    Niccolb 

Machiavclli  of  Villari  239 
Lines  written  during  a  Period 

of  Insanity  of  Cowpcr  281 
Linked  in  Death  of  Uiphilus 

230 
Lintot  178 
Literary    History  of  Rome  of 

Duff  211,  231,  2.33 
Litter  at  ure      et      Histoire      of 

Littre  174,  182 
Littre  10,  17,  21,78,  159,  174, 

175,  182,  236 
Livet  207,  219 
Lizard,  The  35 
Lobeck  219 
Lockhart  270 
Loeb  184,  219 

London  7,  100,129,  184,  214 
London  Institution  7,  26,  28, 

171,  172 
Longueville,    Mme.    de     198, 

199 
Lope  de  Vega  241,  242 
Lord  Petre  178 
Louis-Philippe  of  France  249 
Louis  XIV  of  France  31,  88, 

174,  204,  205,  282 
l/ouis  XV  of  France  240 
Louis  XVI  of  France  240 
Love  for  Love  of  Congreve  98, 

192,  212 
Love  in   Several   Masques  of 

Fielding  189 


320 


INDEX 


Loves   of  the    Triangles,  The, 
of     Canning,     Frere,     and 
Ellis  263 
Lowell  8 

Lucas  100,  191,  278 
Lurewell,  Lady  83,  8-t,  191 
Luscius  Lanuvinus  231 
Lulrin,  Le,  of  Boileau  178 
Lysander  254,  255 
Lysislraia     of     Aristophanes 
255,  256 

Macaulay,  G.  C.  200 
Machiavelli  16,  31,  113,  238, 

239,  240 
MacMechan  276,  277 
Macnamara  3 
Mair  287 
Malade    Imaginaire,    Le,    of 

Moliere  281 
Malassis  206 
Mall,  The  81,  189 
Mall,    The,    of   J.    D.    (John 

Dryden?)  189 
Malvolio  88,  202 
Mandragola,  La,  of  Machia- 
velli 113,  238,  239,  240 
Manly  111,  236 
Manuel    de    I'Hisfoire    de    la 

Litteralure       Franqaise      of 

Brunetiere  289 
Marathon  127,  255 
Marcus  Antonius,  Life  of,  of 

Plutarch  191 
Manage    de    Figaro,    Le,    of 

Beaumarchais  236,  237 
Mariage     d'Olympe,     Le,     of 

Augier  289,  290 
Maricas     the     Drunkard     of 

Eupolis  261 
Marie  Antoinette  240 
Marquis,  Le  290,  291 
Marston  188 
Martial  293 
Martina  211 
Marty-Laveaux  241 
Mary   (the  Catholic),  Queen 

of  England  185 


Mascher,',  Le,  of  Machiavelli 
238 

Maskwell  97,  212 

Massinger  86,  87,  201 

Matthews,  Miss  271 

Matz  6  n.,  8  n. 

Maximes  el  Reflexions  sur  la 
Comedie  of  Bossuet  282 

Masse  8 

Mazarin  198,  199 

Medecin  Malgre  Lui,  Le,  of 
Moliere  206,  207 

Mediaeval  Stage,  The,  of 
Chambers  193 

Megara  179 

Memoires  of  Saint-Simon  198 

Memoires  of  the  Academic 
Royale  de  Belgique  210 

'Memoirs  of  a  Preceding  Age' 
268 

Memoirs  of  Pasquier  249 

Memoirs  of  the  Lady  Hester 
Stanhope  of  Meryon  268 

Memorabilia  of  Xenophon  256 

Menaechmi  of  Plautus  203 

Menander  16,  23,  30,  31,  86, 
88,  106,  107,  108,  109,  110, 
111,163,  195,  203,212,219, 
220,  221,  222,  223,  224,  225, 
226,  227,  228,  229,  232,  233, 
234,  235 

Menandre  of  Guizot  220 

Menedemus  111,  223,  235 

Menteur,  Le,  of  Pierre  Cor- 
neille  114,  240,  241 

Mephistopheles  245 

Merchant  of  Venice,  The,  of 
Shakespeare  176 

Meredith,  Anne  3 

Meredith,  Augustus  Arm- 
strong 3.  3  n.,  4 

Meredith,  George,  Some  Recol- 
lections, of  Clodd  4  n.,  5  n., 
10  n.,  20  n.,  273,  275,  286 

Meredith,  Melchizedek  3 

Meredith,  W.  M.  14  n. 

Merry  Wives  of  f]'indsor.  The, 
of  Shakespeare  202 


INDEX 


321 


Meryon  269 

Micio  111 

Mikado,  The,  of  Gilbert  and 
Sullivan  292 

Milan  -236 

Miles  910 

Miles  Gloriosus  of  Plautus  235 

Milford  281 

Mill,  J.  S.  10,  30,  85,  196 

Millamant  84,  92,  97,  98,  101, 
102,  192,  208,  216 

Miltiacles  255 

Milton  33,  189,  202,  280 

Minna  von  Barnhelm  of 
Lessing  243 

Mirabell  92,  98,  99,  100,  101, 
102,  192,  208 

Misanthrope,  Le,  of  Moliere 
31,  89,  90,  92,  95,  103,  104, 
106,147,  161,  166,  178,  197, 
206,  207,  208,  210,  213,  216, 
217,  218,  235,  236 

Misanthrope,  The,  see  Alceste 

Miscellaneous  Essays  of  Car- 
lyle  244 

Miscellany  of  Lintot  178 

Misogynes  of  Menander  106, 
219 

Mtcroviixei'O?  of  Menander 
107,  163,  221,  222 

Modem  Language  Review  14  n. 

Modern  Love  of  Meredith  5 

Modest  Proposal,  A,  of  Swift 
274 

Moliere  15,  16,  17,  18,  23,  30, 
31,  76,  85,  80,  89,  90,  91, 
94,96,97,98,  100,  103,110, 
111,  112,  113,  121,138,143, 
144,146,  147,  151,  163,174, 
178,179,  184,  198,  199,205, 
206,  207,  210,  211,  212,  213, 
216,217,219,  221,233,235, 
236,  240,  242,  250,  277,  280, 
281,  232,  283,  287 

Moliere  en  Anglelerre  of  Gillet 
210 

Moliere,  II,  of  Goldoni  240 

Moliere,  Oeuvres  of  205 


Moliere  of  Sainte-Beuvel  267, 

277 
Moliere's      Misanthrop      und 

seine  Englischen  Sachahm- 

ungcn  of  Ferchlandt  210 
Monmerque  197 
Montagu  172 
Montaigne  15 
Montausier  85,  196,  197 
Montgomerj-  171 
Montrichard  291 
Moralia  of  Plutarch  224,  227 
Morison  6.  8,  13,  26 
Morley  4  n.,  5,  6,  8,  9,  10,  22, 

23,  24,  26,  27 
Morning  Post  7,  286 
Mozart  237 
Much  Ado  About  Nothing  of 

Shakespeare  177,  202 
Mumma  243 

Murray,  Gilbert  253,  284 
Murray,  John  275 
Myers  180 

Natalie  245 

Nathan  der  Wcise  of  Lessing 

243 
Natural  History  of  Pliny  188 
Naturalist.  The  270 
Naucralis  224 
Nerrlich  244 
Nettleton  182.  185,  192 
Neuwied  4,  286 
New  Collection  of  Miscellanies 

of  Dennis  190 
New  English  Dictionary  215, 

251,  269,  270 
New   Greek   Comedy,    The,   of 

Legrand  200,  203,  219,  222, 

224.  230,  236 
New   Quarterly   Magazine  27, 

27  n.,  159,  171 
New  Way  to  Pay  Old  Debts,  A. 

of  M;issinger  201 
Nicias  264 

Nicolls,  Mary  Ellen  5 
Niebuhr  15 
N iederdeutsche  Denkmdler  287 


322 


INDEX 


Nile.  The  188 

North  191 

Notable    Dames    and    Notable 

Men  of  the  Georgian  Era  of 

Fyvie  "268 
Nouveaux   Lundis   of    Sainte- 

Beuve  111 

Odet  175 

Ode  to  the  Comic  Spirit  of 
Meredith  7 

Oedipus  '236 

Old  Bachelor,  The,  of  Coa- 
greve  191,  194 

Oldfather  230,  231 

Olympus  9 

Ordeal  of  Richard  Feverel,  The, 
of  Meredith  5,  6 

Orgon  111,  112,  113,  163,  235, 
237 

Origin  of  Attic  Comedy  of 
Cornford  179 

Origin  of  Tragedy  of  Ridge- 
way  181 

Ormsby  276 

Orson  151,  287 

Osgood  249 

Overbury  233 

Oxford  275 

Pallas,  see  Athene 

Pamela  of  Richardson  273 

Pantagruel  201 

Pantagruel  of  Rabelais  175 

Panurge  87,  160,  201 

Pauza,  Sancho  275 

Paris  89,  207,  240,  288 

Paris,  Paulin  197 

Pascal  21,  24,  80,  99,  186 

Pa-squier  122,  123,  164,  249, 
250 

Pasquier,  Estienne  Denis,  of 
Favre  250 

Past  and  Present  of  Carlyle 
274 

Pater  257 

Patience  of  Gilbert  and  Sulli- 
van 292 


Paul,  Saint  220 

Peace    of    Aristophanes    254, 

255,  265 
Peacock  5,  23 
'Pedant,  The'  150 
Pedro,  Don  177 
Peg  84,  191.  192 
Peggy,  see  Peg 
Pensees  of  Joubert  195 
Pensies  of  Pascal  15,  186 
Pepin  287 
Pepys  262 

Percy's  Reliques  172 
Peregrine   Pickle  of    Smollett 

146,  284,  285 
Perigreen  189 
IlepiKeipo/ue'i'r)   of    Menander 

107,  222 
JlepivGia  of  Menander  223 
Pernelle,  Madame  113,  238 
Persians  255 
Petre,  Lord  178 
Phaedrus  188 
Phaethon  293 
Pharaoh  87,  201 
Philaminte  96,  112,  135,  211, 

237 
Philemon  225,  226 
Philiberte  of  Augier  290 
Philip  II  of  Spain  267 
Philip  IV  of  Spain  267 
Phormio  108 

Phormio  of  Terence  108,  223 
Photiades  26,  26  n. 
Phrynichus,  the  Atticist  219, 

224 
Phrynichus,    the   comic  poet 

128,  252,  259,  260,  261 
Pickard-Cambridge  183 
Pignot  199 

Pinafore  of  Gilbert  and  Sulli- 
van 292 
Pinchwife  84,  185,  191 
Pinchwife,  Margery  184,   191 
Pirates  of  Penzance,    The,  of 

Gilbert  and  Sullivan  292 
Pirlone  240 
Pitt  262 


mDEX 


Plain  Dealer,   The,    of  Wych- 
erley  94,  208,  210,  236     . 
Plasencia  241 
Plato  17 
Plautus  15,  16,  221,  229,  230, 

231,  235,  239,  258 
Plinv  188 
Plutarch  108,   109,   191,  223, 

224,  225,  227,  228.  229 
Plutus  of  Aristophanes  254 
Plyant  83,  84,  191 
Poetics  of  Aristotle  179,  181, 

213,  214,  279 
Poetry  of  Michelangelo,   The, 

of  Pater  257 
Poetry  of  the  Anti-Jacobin,  ed. 

Edmonds  262 
Pollard  268,  293 
Pollock  8 

Poor  Relations  of  Lamb  273 
Pope  144,  178,  187,  281 
Portraits  Litteraires  of  Sainte- 

Beuve  267,  277 
Portsmouth  3,  4 
Portuguese  115 
Powell,  York  10 
Precieuses   Ridicules,   Les,   of 

Moliere  90,  206 
Prelude  to  The  Egoist  of  Mere- 
dith 7,  34,  34  n. 
Prospero  39 
Prue  84,  191 

Public  et  les  Hommes  de  Lettres 
en  Angleterre  [etc.|,  Le,  of 
Beljame  182 
Punch  and  Judy  84,  193 
Punch  (London)  188,  292,  293 
Pygmalion     and     Galatea    of 
Gilbert  292 

Quintilian  203,  225 

Quixote,  Don  136,  146,  262, 

275 

Rabe  212 

Rabelais  16,  17,  19,  28,  76,  87, 
99,  121,  128,  146,  160,  174, 


175,176,177,  183,201,261, 
267 
Racine  15 

Rambouillet,  Mme.  de  197 
Rape  of  the  Lock,  The,  of  Pope 

28,  77,  178 
Ravenswood  278 
Recollections  of  Morlej-  4  n., 

5  n.,  8,  9  n.,  22  n.,  24  n. 
Regnier  286 

Reinecke  Fuchs  of  Goethe  245 
Relapse,  The,  of  Vanbrugh  186 
Renan  15 

Revue  des  Deux  Mondes  199 
RcTue  des  Etudes  Grecques  222 
Rhine,  The  4 
Rhoda  Fleming  of  Meredith  6, 

285,  291 
Richardson  135,  273 
Richter   (sec  also   Jean  Paul) 

23,  115,  244,  245 
Richier,  Life  of,  of  Carlyle  244 
Ridgeway  181 
Ridley  185 
Riezler  246 

Robertson  33,  167,  292 
Roger?  183. 184,  227,  252,  253, 
257,  260,  264,  265,  266,  283, 
284 
Roland  242 
Rolfe  226,  227 
Roman  Comedy  of  Oldfather 

230 
Roman  Empire  229 
Romans  229,  231 
Rome  16,  108,  224,  225,  239 
Roquette  85,  198,  199 
Roquette,  Gabriel  de,  of  Pignot 

199 
Rousseau  103,  105,  216,  218 
Rousseau,  Oeuvres  of  217 
RUckert  247 
Raskin  22 

Sad  Shepherd,    The,   of    Ben 

Jonson  200 
Sainte-Beuvr  10,  17,  31,  107, 

194,  197,  221,  267,  277 


3U 


INDEX 


Sainte-Maure,  see  Montausier 

Saint  James'  Park  189 

Saint-Marc  Girardin,  see  Gi- 
rardin 

Saintsbury  189 

Saint-Simon  85,  198 

Salamis  127,  255 

Salzburg  246 

2afiia  of  Menander  222 

Samuel  Foole  of  Fitzgerald  265 

Sancho  Panza  275 

Sandra  Belloni  of  Meredith  7 

Sandys  224,  232 

Sanin  Cano  276 

Sartor  Resartus  of  Carlyle  276 

Satires  of  Horace  259 

Satires  of  Juvenal  277 

Scapin  112,  236 

Scaramouche  Ermite  204,  205, 
206 

School  for   Scandal,    The,    of 
Sheridan  210 

Scornful  Lady,  The,  of  Beau- 
mont and  Fletcher  193 

Scott,  Sir  Walter  15,  189,  270, 
278 

Scott,  Sir  Walter,  Life  of,  of 
Lockhart  270 

Scott,  Temple  275 

Scriblerus  187 

Secchia   Rapita,   La,   of  Tas- 
soni  178 

Seccombe  8,  27  n. 

Seelmann  287 

Selections    from    Johnson    of 
Osgood  249 

Selections    from    the    English 

Poets  of  Leigh  Hunt  283 
Self -C hast iser.  The,  of  Menan- 
der 110,  223,  232 

Self-Pitier,  The,  of  Menander 

110,  231 
Self-Tormentor,    The,   of  Ter- 
ence 108,  111,  223,  232,  236 
Sentimental  Journey  of  Sterne 

277 
Servois  286 
Seville  241 


Seville  Mocker,  The,  of  Tirso 

de  Molina  242 
Sganarelle   of  L'Ecole  des 

Maris  111 
Sganarelle   of   Le    Medecin 

Malgre  Lui  207 
Shakespeare  16,  21,  30,  33,  77, 
87,  88,  110,  128,  144,  147, 
161,  174,  176,  177,  191,  193, 
196,200,201,202,211,235, 
248,  276 
Shaving  of  Shagpat,    The,   of 

Meredith  5,  248 
Shedd  212 
Shelley  12,  128 
Sheridan,   R.    B.   16,  23,   96, 

101,  18G,  210,  263 
Sheridan,  To  Dr.,  of  Swift  258 
She  Stoops  to  Conquer  of  Gold- 
smith 208,  209 
Short     History     of    Classical 

Scholarship  of  Sandys  224 
Shylock  211 
Sicily  179 
Siebenkas  115,  244 
Sir    Harry    fVildair    of    Far- 

quhar  191 
Smith,  Sydney  268.  283 
Smithfield  79,  185 
Smollett  16,  193,  284,  285 
Smollett,  Works  of  285 
Smoothfield   {see  also  Smith- 
field)  185 
Snaith  216 

Society  of  Roberlson  292 
Socrates  127,  253 
Some  Remark-able  Passages  in 
the  Life  of  Mr.  Wycherley  of 
Dennis  190 
Sophonisha  of  Marston  188 
Sosia  230 
South  283 
Southsea  3 

Souvenirs      de      Voyages     et 
d'Eiudes  of  Saint-Marc  Gi- 
rardin 248 
Souvenirs  et    Reflexions   of 
Saint-Marc  Girardin  243 


INDEX 


325 


Spain  16,  114,  241 

Spartans  255 

Spectator,  The  233 

Spurzheim  171 

Stanhope,  Lady  Hester  268 

Starkie  253 

Sterne  138,  277 

Stevenson  8 

Stigand  242 

Still    Waters    Run    Deep    of 

Taylor  292 
Suetonius  226,  233 
^vyxpicreti)';        '.\pi(TTO<j)di'OVi 

ical  yiei'dvSpov  'Ettito/ouJ  (of 

Plutarch?)  227 
Suidas  224 
Sullivan  292 
Sully  266 
SuraTToCi'ifcricoi'Tesof  Diphilus 

223,  229 
Superstitious    Man,     The,    of 

Menander  110,  232 
Suppositi,  I,  of  Ariosto  238 
Suzel  288 
Swift  16,  21,   128,   136,  258, 

259,  274 
Swift,  Poems  of  258 
Swift,  Prose  Works  of  275 
Swinburne  8 
Sycorax  39 

Symposium  of  Plato  17 
Syphax  188 
Syracosius  251,  252 
Syrianus  in  Ilermogenem  212 
Syne    en  isei.  La,  of    Saint- 
Marc  Girardin  248 
Syrus  111,  236 

Tallemant  des  Reaux  196, 197 
Tallemant  et  Bussy  of  Sainte- 

Beuve  197 
Tartuffe  85,  96,  111,  113,  135. 

198,  199,  210,  237,238,240 
Tartuffe,  Le,  of  Moliere  28,  31, 

77,  89,  92,   112,   147,   166, 

178,  179,  204,  205,  235,  237, 

238,  270 
Tassoni  178 


Taller,  The  233 

Taylor  33,  167,  188,  292 

Temple  Bar  278 

Tennyson  204 

Terence  16,  23,  30,  31,  83,  86, 
107,  108,  109,  110,  111,160, 
162, 190,  220,  221,  223,226, 
227,  230,  231,  233,  234,  2.35, 
236,  239,  259 

Thais  107,  162,  220 

Thais  (©ac?)  of  Menander 220 

Thalia  179,  219 

Theatre  Frangais  152 

Theogony  of  Hesiod  287 

Theophrastus  203,  232,  233 

Theophrastus  and  his  Imita- 
tors of  Gordon  232 

Thesaurus  of  Menander  111 

Thraso  111,  235 

Thuringia  247 

Times,  The  (London)  27,  28 

Timon  175,  176 

Timoteo,  Frate  114,  164,  239 

T  intern  Abbey  of  Words- 
worth 12  n. 

Tirso  de  Molina  241,  242 

Tissaphernes  256 

Titans  287,  288 

Titian  216 

Tom  Jones  of  Fielding  209 

'Tradition'  of  Greek  Litera- 
ture, The,  of  Murray  234 

Tragedy  of  Sophonisba,    The, 

of  Marston  188 
Trip    to    Scarborough,    A,    of 
Sheridan  186 

Trissotin  151,  286 

Tristram    Shandy    of    Sterne 

277 
Twelfth-Night  of  Shakespeare 

202 
Two  Masks,  The,  of  Meredith 
7 

Tyre  246 

Untersberg  115,  246 
Uranos  287 


326 


INDEX 


Vadius  151,  287 

Valentine,  in  Congreve's  Love 

for  Love  98,  212 
Valentine,    in    Valentine    and 

Orson  287 
Valentine  and  Orson  287 
Valentine    and    the    Nameless 

One  287 
Valentin  und  Namelos  287 
Vanbrugh  186,  190 
Variae  Historiae  of  Aelian  187 
Vega    Carpio,    see    Lope    de 

Vega 
Venice  114,  216,  239,  240 
Venus  228 
Verdad    Sospcchosa,     La,    of 

Alarcon  y  Mendoza  241 
Vicar  of  Wakefield,    The,   of 

Goldsmith  208 
Vigny  196 
Villari  239 
Virgil  195 
Vision  of  Judgment,   The,  of 

Byron  264 
Vila  Terenli  of  Suetonius  226, 


Way   of  the    World,    The,    of 

Congreve  30,  85,  92,  97,  98, 

100,  192,  210,  213,  215 
Wesley  171 
Wheatley  172 
Wheeler  193 
Wild,  Edward  272 
Wild,  James  272 
Wild,  Jonathan  32,  134,  135, 

271,  272 
Wild-Goose     Chase,     The,    of 

Fletcher  200 
Wilkes  128,  263,  264,  265 
Winifred  245 

Wishfort,  Lady  101,  192.  215 
Wit  and  Humor  of  Leigh  Hunt 

283 
Witwoud  99,  100 
Woman-Hater,    The,    of    Me- 

nander  219 
Wood  267 

Wordsworth,  12,  12  n.,  22 
Wright  285 
Wycherley  16,  29.  79,  94,  96, 

184,  185, 190,  191,  210,  236 


Vittoria  of  Meredith  7,  22 
Voigt  246 
Volpone  211 
Voltaire  16,  121,  204 
Voltaire,  Ocurres  of  204 
Vulliamy,  Marie  6,  7 

Waller  262 

Warburton  187 

Wasps   of   Aristophanes   253, 

256,  283 
Watson  203.  226 


Xanthias  146 
Xenophon  127,  256 
Xenophon,  Works  of  256 
Xerxes  255 

Yonge  223 
Yorick  137,  276 

Zanthia  188 

Zeus  (see  also  Jove)  180,  277, 
288 


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